An Acceptable Weakness
by DreadingNought
Summary: Voldemort shows up and things get complicated, especially when Harry gets taken to safety by Snape. Story goes from Year Six to Post-Year Seven. HPSS
1. Default Chapter

title: An Acceptable Weakness  
auther: Dreadnought  
pairings: hp/ss  
rating: R  
summary: Voldemort shows up and things get complicated, especially when Harry gets taken to safety by Snape. Story goes from Year Six to Post-Year Seven.   
disclaimer: I don't own these characters and don't pretend to. The owners are pretty much a given anyway. Not into homoerotic, find something else to read--you have been warned.   
other notes: This story is for Amy, who wanted a Romantic Snape/Harry story. Let's hope I succeeded.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Revenge's Children  
  
Harry was angry. And in pain. He pulled himself along the forest floor a few feet and with a grimace, put his head down on his arm to rest. Last year's leaf remains crunched under his arm as his head rested upon it. Harry imagined all kinds of miserable, painful deaths for Draco Malfoy; none seemed anywhere near sufficient.   
  
Malfoy had warned Harry that he would get even for his father landing in Azkaban and he had been true to his word. Only three weeks into the school year and already Malfoy had managed to execute plans he probably spent the summer holiday plotting. He and Nott had caught Harry alone outside the changing rooms at the Quidditch Pitch after practice. Harry didn't know what spell they had used, but he'd woken up out here, deep in the Forbidden Forest; woken up to the feel of Malfoy's boot kicking him in the ribs. The two Slytherins wore mock Death Eater outfits, complete with homemade masks. Harry had made fun of that until he'd regretted it, dearly.  
  
The throbbing in Harry's side had eased, but his shins still throbbed enough to make his eyes water. Harry had heard them crack when Nott had hit them with a Crushing Curse. The first thing Harry intended to do when he got out of the hospital wing was look up the Counter to that one.   
  
A cool, forest-floor breeze chilled him. It was starting to feel far too optimistic to imagine a future that included leaving the hospital wing. Nott's last threat of telling the Dark Lord where he could find Harry had not bothered him at first, but now it weighed on him harder as his sense of helplessness increased. Harry would not have thought anything of it at all if Nott's close proximity had not made Harry's scar tingle. He crawled over to a close, smooth-barked tree and sat against it. Tears of pain were mixing now with tears of frustration. What the hell was he going to do? he wondered. He was only guessing the correct direction and although it was early afternoon, even with two good legs, he would have a hard time making his way all the way back to the castle.  
  
Harry tipped his head back and looked up at the tree branching into the cloudy sky. It looked very tall from this angle, with the top of his head pressed against the bark, dizzyingly so. He looked down at his debris-covered robe and sighed in frustration. No one was going to know where he was. A slow death was clearly what Malfoy had in mind, one where he and Nott were clearly in view at Hogwarts while Harry was stuck out in the wilds. He was pretty sure this was the plan--after the Crushing Curse they had departed hastily.  
  
Harry wasn't certain Malfoy and Nott were stupid enough to let something slip to another student, or a teacher, in time. Dumbledore always seemed to know where Harry was, at least he did when Harry himself was getting into trouble. But if Dumbledore were going to come, he would have been here by now. If Sirius were still alive and Harry had the two-way mirror, he could come. That was clearly the wrong line of thinking, Harry realized, as he felt for the thousandth time the crushing weight of that mistake. And it was his mistake--his alone. As much as he wanted to blame Dumbledore for keeping Sirius locked up, to blame Snape for goading his godfather and for not making it clear he had understood Harry's message, it was really his own damn fault. His gullibility coupled with Sirius' unswerving loyalty had killed his godfather. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, glad for the moment that he was alone.   
  
A pair of crows interrupted his self-loathing by cawing loudly as they crashed through the trees above him. After dancing around on the upper, swaying branches in a kind of battle, they flew off again, side-by-side.  
  
Another brisk breeze came through, picking up the leaf litter and tossing some of it over the hem of Harry's robe. Alarmed by that, Harry closed his eyes and thought through his options with fear pumping his heart in his ears. Walking was impossible. He did not have a wand or a broom. He needed to get a message to someone--that was clearly the only way. He stepped through the ways, Wizard and Muggle, of passing messages to someone. Owl, telephone, silver bird, paper airplane, mirror, Harry ticked them off in his head and frowned. Voldemort never had this problem; he could always send Harry messages, true and otherwise, but he was the last person Harry wanted to reach. He would rather take his chance on the centaurs stumbling upon him in a good mood.  
  
Something about that would not let Harry go; he was missing something there. His heart started to race as he thought about it more. Could he reach someone that way, with Legilimency? Maybe someone he had done it with before. Harry hit his head back against the tree and exhaled hard. Legilimency supposedly only worked eye-to-eye, but Voldemort didn't need that, apparently, and Harry was desperate. Eye-to-eye, Harry thought and wondered what time it was. Snape would be teaching an afternoon class right now, Harry figured, as he closed his eyes and pictured the Potions classroom.  
  
Severus Snape stood in the front of the second year Potions class and discussed the use of poison toads. The students' quills scritched like little insects as he spoke. He paused to give them a chance to catch up as he scanned the tops of all of their heads leaning over their writing. They would learn better to write while sitting up straight, but that happened around third or fourth year. Odd, for a moment there, Snape was sure one of the students was watching him, although a quick survey of the room showed them all either writing or rereading.  
  
"Other parts of the poison toad are useful, beyond the poison sacks themselves. The liver is generally useful, similar to all genus Bufo." Snape paused. The odd feeling had returned, only this time it made his side heat up and his shins ache. Several of the students finished writing and looked up. He paced across the front of the classroom and back again. "Page fifty-seven in your textbook has the synthesis of today's potion. Read it." The students hesitated and then all of them reached for their books and opened them.  
  
Snape scanned the tops of their heads again. He had two choices, he could Occlude his mind and resist this strange invasion or he could welcome it in, which he did not like the thought of. Again the sensation of being observed flowed over him like cold water, accompanied by a desperate panic. He could feel a set of eyes upon him, from the second row where a blond, long-haired Hufflepuff now sat, reading intently. Potter's usual seat.  
  
Snape closed his eyes and took himself back to one of those horrible sessions of instruction the headmaster had forced upon him, one where Potter had actually grabbed control of the spell. This time he felt pain starkly enough that he worried his legs were not going to continue supporting him. Where are you, Potter? Snape thought.  
  
Harry's eyes snapped open. He had actually reached his Professor. Relief made him breathless. Harry looked around himself for some kind of landmark. Downhill from him lay a very large, fallen tree. Its blockage of his path daunted his thoughts of continuing on. A quick look around again revealed that to be the only significant thing.   
  
That does not narrow it down, Harry sensed, could actually hear the sneer as though it had been spoken.  
  
It is _really_ big, Harry insisted. Three times the diameter of everything around and it didn't fall that long ago. Indeed, dead leaves still clung to a few branches. Harry didn't sense any reply, which left him feeling despondent again.  
  
Professor Snape put the instructions for the potion on the blackboard. "Supplies are there. No one is to leave or make any trouble." He stalked out.  
  
In the Slytherin common room he found Walton, the seventh year Prefect. He led the boy out into the hallway. "Take my second year Potions class for a little while, I have an important errand to run. And I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone," Snape added.  
  
Walton nodded with a knowing smile and headed away toward the classroom. Snape watched him turn the corner before he went to his office to collect his broom. As he took off from the astronomy tower, he sent a silver bird to Madame Pomfrey, asking her to follow.   
  
At the first large fallen tree, he landed and called out. Only silence and the startled rustle of small creatures answered him. He took off and flew to the next. As he landed, something larger shifted in the leaf fall and Potter's voice said, "Professor?"  
  
Snape sent a flare spell up above the trees for Pomfrey to follow before he stepped over to Harry and crouched down. "What happened, Potter?"  
  
"Malfoy and Nott," Harry said with a frown as he made the mistake of trying to sit up straighter.  
  
"Stay still, Potter. Madame Pomfrey is on her way."  
  
Harry rubbed his eyes. "Thank you for coming, sir," he said quietly.  
  
Snape's brow furrowed at that. "You seriously believed I might not have?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"Potter, you are as much my responsibility as Professor McGonagall's. Things would go much easier if you trusted me just a little bit more," he added sharply.  
  
Harry grimaced, but didn't reply.  
  
"Where is your wand?"  
  
"Malfoy has it."  
  
Snape looked him over. "I would prefer to wait for Pomfrey, but if it is more than another few minutes, I will take you myself." He spelled splints around Harry's legs in preparation. Harry gasped and then relaxed as the pain eased some. "I am going to see where they are," Snape said and then took off on his broom and rose quickly through the trees.  
  
Harry watched him go and wondered that he had not expected Snape to know how to fly that well. Moments later the teachers landed: Sprout and Pomfrey as well as the Potions Professor. With noises of sympathy, they bundled him up and used a tethering hover charm to tow him along behind Pomfrey's broom. Harry kept his eyes closed until they approached the castle. Flying on a broom was one thing, being hovered was another, but the combination was something else entirely. Flying with absolutely no visible means of support made him panicky.  
  
Pomfrey settled Harry into a bed and quickly spelled his legs back to their old selves. She then did the same to his ribs, gave him a potion to swallow and set a stack of chocolate frogs beside him. "I think you are all set Mr. Potter," Pomfrey was saying gently when the headmaster stepped into the wing.  
  
Dumbledore stepped over in his stately way and clasped his hands before him. "How are you, Harry?"  
  
Harry shrugged casually as he unwrapped a sweet and replied, "Okay." He wanted to play down his earlier fear and the potion had taken away the little aches that reminded him of being helpless.  
  
"I'm very glad to hear that." Dumbledore picked up a chocolate and unwrapped it. "Ah, my one weakness," he said with a wink at Harry. "_Amphococamorte_," Dumbledore murmured as the candy moved to leap from the package. It froze in mid-leap and the headmaster took a bite of it. He set the rest of the box aside and pulled Harry's wand out of his pocket and presented it to him. "I found this," he said.  
  
"On Malfoy?" Harry asked.  
  
"Hm," Dumbledore murmured and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I need to speak to you about that, actually," the old wizard said quietly. He patted Harry's arm and said, "First off let me assure you that I do not wish to appear unsympathetic to what happened to you. Your safety is, as you know, very important to me. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott on the other hand are valuable in ways you may not realize. What they have done is more than sufficient grounds for expulsion, but that is something I wish to avoid."  
  
Harry stared at him, mind running furiously. He had just been lying here thinking how nice it would be to finally be rid of them. Swallowing his immediate outburst with difficulty, he crossed his arms and stared at the shape of his feet under the bedcover. He did not look up until the door to the hospital wing opened and Professor Snape appeared.  
  
Snape's dark eyes jumped between the two of them and he nodded at Dumbledore. The headmaster waved him over, aborting his immediate move to depart. Snape frowned and stalked over. Dumbledore said to Harry, "Malfoy and Nott have been given Memory Charms to make them forget what they did."  
  
Snape gave the headmaster a meaningful look and shook his head slightly.  
  
Harry interjected, "That wouldn't have been a good idea with Nott," and garnered a piercing look from Snape. "I can tell," Harry explained. "He makes my scar tingle."  
  
"It was only a matter of time, I suppose before Mr. Nott was pulled into the fold," Dumbledore sighed.   
  
"I gave Nott a potion to make him believe he dreamed attacking Mr. Potter. It will be reinforced by Mr. Malfoy not remembering at all." Snape said this to Dumbledore, but did not take his gaze off Harry.  
  
"Nott hasn't told Malfoy, I don't think," Harry thought aloud.  
  
Dumbledore gave Harry a curious look. "Hasn't told Malfoy that he is a Death Eater, you mean?"  
  
"Yes." Harry thought a moment. "They both had fake Death Eater costumes. Presumably, Nott has a real one and doesn't want Malfoy to know."  
  
Dumbledore stood up as Madame Pomfrey stepped over to them. "Interesting theory, Harry." To Pomfrey he said, "Is Harry free to go?"  
  
She smiled at him. "Yes, he is."  
  
Harry rubbed his hair back hard to try to control his emotions. He was stung and angry at the situation but determined to see it through.  
  
"All right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said evenly as he reached for his shirt, held out by Madame Pomfrey.  
  
"Perhaps it is best to explain the bruise on your chin as a Quidditch practice accident," the headmaster suggested as he turned to leave, gathering Snape up with a look. "And do try to have someone else with you at ALL times from now on when you are outside the Gryffindor Tower."  
  
Harry nodded and dropped his gaze. After he dressed he headed up to the commons room. Hermione and Ron were studying in the corner with Neville.  
  
"Harry, what happened to you? You missed-" she stopped when she saw his bruise.  
  
At that moment as Harry opened his mouth to lie he remembered reading that bludgers could react very badly to spell tampering. He leaned in close. "As I was putting stuff away after practice, I thought of trying to spell a bludger the way Dobby did so the Slytherins would have to deal with it during their practice this evening."  
  
"Harry! Don't you know they can go berserk if you try that?" Hermione said crossly to him.  
  
"I do now," Harry said.  
  
Colin came over, fortunately without his camera. "Harry, you look terrible."  
  
"I lost an argument with a Bludger," Harry said to him, intentionally loud enough for the whole common room to hear. Everyone turned to them. Harry addressed the room and turning red-faced, announced, "Don't ever try to spell a Bludger to go rouge. Not worth the attempt."  
  
Some students tittered a little. Others expressed sympathy. Blushing more, Harry turned to his schoolwork. Later, after Neville left, Harry explained what really happened. Hermione was incensed by the lack of punishment for the Slytherins.  
  
"Things are getting bad," Ron reminded her. "My mum and dad don't sleep well anymore and their letters are all a sentence long if they find the time to write at all. Dumbledore can't afford to lose any advantages."  
  
"Nott gets to be a Death Eater--why don't we get to join the Order?" Harry griped in a whisper.  
  
The next morning, Harry grimaced at himself in the mirror. He ran down to the commons early to meet Hermione. "Can you spell this to be fainter?" Harry asked.  
  
"Embarrassed, Harry?" she teased him.  
  
"No, I just don't want Nott to be suspicious at all."  
  
She looked his face over thoughtfully. "I can make it a lot fainter for a few hours."  
  
"Please?"  
  
She spelled him and studied her work and spelled him again. "There, that is almost not noticeable."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione." He had her show him the spell so he could renew it later in the day.  
  
After breakfast followed Potions. Ron waved to them as he headed off to Divination without them. In the corridor to the stairs, Hermione pulled Harry aside. "You really managed to reach Professor Snape with Legilimency?" she asked. "That is rare at that distance, Harry. I did some reading on it last night."  
  
"I was desperate," Harry pointed out.  
  
"That would make it harder, Harry. It takes a lot of focus."  
  
Harry shrugged and started to walk toward the stairs. Other students were coming down the corridor behind them. Hermione put a hand out to forestall him. "I'm sorry you have to face Malfoy and Nott after what happened," she said in sympathy.  
  
"Yeah," Harry breathed. "But I don't have any choice. I'll get them back, don't worry about it." He walked away before the other students came abreast. Hermione rushed to catch up to him at the top of the stairs.  
  
In the classroom, Harry took out his notes and quill and reread the last few pages of parchment. "How do I look?" Harry asked his friend very quietly.  
  
"Fine. I'll keep an eye on the spell; don't worry," she assured him.  
  
Malfoy and Nott strutted in together at that point. Harry pretended to ignore them as he put a heading on his parchment with the date and the textbook chapter. A minute later, Snape strode in behind the stragglers, giving them dirty looks as he made his way to the front of the classroom to begin. "Today we are going to brew the first part of a three-part potion, so we are going to talk about stasis spells briefly."  
  
Harry levelled his expression before he looked up from his notes. Snape gave him one piercing look as his eyes surveyed the room, then ignored him for the rest of the class.  
  
As they headed up to the common room afterward, Harry commented, "That worked out well."  
  
"Don't count on it lasting, Harry," Hermione pointed out.  
  
Harry didn't count on it, which was just as well. Snape returned to his previous vindictive self by the next class but Harry had little time to worry about it. Between Ron muttering concern over the short notes from his parents and Hermione muttering concern as she read between the lines of the articles in the _Daily Prophet_, Harry felt that worrying about one class was petty if nothing else.

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**Notes** Okay, force me to post another story to comment on the last one, go ahead. I apologize for the previous ending, but the part of my brain that comes up with this stuff is also the part that doesn't want do the dishes right after a meal, leaves the tools lying around after fixing something, and doesn't go to bed until really late at night.   
  
If someone has ideas for wrapping Dungeon up a little more neatly, please post them to me. I don't want to go more than two more chapters, although I like my last line, so it would be something inserted before the last scene with Ginny, I expect. I really have no ideas that are inspiring enough to type them out. I don't want to make it 200 pages and finish Voldemort, etc. so where to end, really?   
  
Now, this story does do in the big V so we are in better shape here.   
  
An NC-17 version of this will be posted elsewhere when I figure out the best place for it. 


	2. A Forced Retreat

Chapter 2 - A Forced Retreat  
  
The term rolled on. Isolated as the students were at Hogwarts, the mood from outside leached in by measure as the weeks went by. Students joked around less in the corridors between classes, were more likely to be quiet in the evenings, and even more likely to be fighting rather than just arguing.  
  
"The Werters have disappeared," Hermione said, reading the back page of the _Prophet_ as she always did before the other pages now.  
  
"Who are they now?" Ron asked.  
  
"Begonia Werter was . . . is a reporter with the_ Prophet_, which is probably the only reason they mentioned it. It says she and her husband, the noted Turning Tulip breeder went missing while traveling to visit a sick aunt."_  
  
_Every morning, Harry felt a weight on his chest when these discussions took place. This was his problem more than anyone's. He rubbed his scar as though expecting it to burn any moment. The Occlumency lessons had paid off in the end, he rarely felt anything except very strong fleeting emotions from Voldemort since the end of last year. He forced himself to breath deeply past the constriction on his chest and felt better for it.  
  
Harry frowned at his breakfast, frustrated at being in school when everyone else was risking themselves. Putting seven Death Eaters in Azkaban hadn't slowed down Voldemort very much, Harry thought. Not as much as one would have hoped. He sensed with a gnawing worry that the Order were losing ground. Wizards now seemed to be too willing to opt for the immediately safe option of staying out of the way. In the end they would regret it, but by then it would be too late.  
  
Hermione, Ron and Ginny stayed over with Harry for Christmas break, something Harry was very grateful for. The first day of break they bundled up and walked down to Hogsmeade to see it decked out in wreaths and ribbons. All of them knew they each had last minute shopping to do as well and after warm cocoa, personally steamed by Madame Rosmerta, they split up with embarrassed glances at each other.  
  
After several purchases, Harry strode away from the quill shop when he heard a _psst! _from the nearby alley. He jogged over and grinned at Ron as he surreptitiously reached into his shopping bag and lifted out a pearl necklace. "What do you think?" he asked nervously.  
  
Harry's eyes went a little wide. "How did you pay for that?" he asked.  
  
"I've been saving and I borrowed a little from Fred and George."  
  
"I think she'll love it." Harry paused. "That is for Hermione, right?" Harry confirmed.  
  
"Yeah, mate," Ron replied as though speaking to an idiot.  
  
"Well, I didn't know. Maybe it was for your mum or something," Harry defended himself.  
  
"Oy. If I got my mum something that expensive she'd kipper me," Ron said. He put the box carefully back in the bag and put his hand knitted mitten back on from where he held it between his knees. "What is it?" Ron said to Harry.  
  
Harry's eyes had glazed over. He stared at the peeling paint of the outside wall of Zonkos. His scar didn't so much burn as radiate pain the way the sun radiates light. "Ron, get out your wand," he said in a daze as he pulled his own out.  
  
"What?"  
  
Harry dropped his voice. "Put down the bag and get out-" An absolute cold washed through him. On automatic, Harry put a heating charm on himself and as Ron's movements slowed, on Ron as well.  
  
"What was that?" Ron asked fearfully.  
  
"I don't know. Keep repeating the heating spell." Harry moved to press himself against the wall of the shop and peek around down the street. It was full of frozen shoppers.  
  
"Ginny!" Ron whispered as he spied the red hair of his sister across the street, frozen as she stared in the window of Honeydukes. Ron took off across the rutted, snowy path to the other side of the street.   
  
"Ron!" Harry whispered urgently and made a grab for his friend, but too late. Harry pressed himself back again, somehow certain which direction danger came from. He watched Ron stagger across the road, hitting himself with his wand as he threw his legs out wide with each step. He heaved his stiff sister over his shoulder and carried her to the alley across the way. He spelled her repeatedly with a heating charm until she collapsed in the snow. Harry hoped that was the right thing for his friend to have done for her.  
  
Harry bent over and pressed his palm to his scar and held back a cry of pain. Finally he managed to straighten and dared glance down the street. From the outskirts of town cloaked, hooded figures moved into the road and headed their way.  
  
"Yeah, just you dare come up here, you bastard," Harry murmured and began prepping spells in his mind. Fury filled Harry then overflowed, making him think he wouldn't need another heating charm. Activity behind him made him spin around with his wand out. On the back narrow path behind the shops, Dumbledore and a few teachers gathered. Harry's shoulders fell in relief. Most of the teachers scattered, apparently with instructions. Harry glanced back down the main street. The Death Eaters were moving stealthily down the road, using frozen wizards and witches for cover as they progressed. Harry turned back to look at the headmaster. Dumbledore pulled a shiny ball from his pocket and handed it to Snape, who palmed it and headed toward Harry. Harry watched the Potions professor approach as he frequently checked the Death Eaters' slow progress with his wand at ready.   
  
"Potter," Snape said from beside him.  
  
Harry turned to him and felt his wrist being enclosed in long fingers. His hand contacted something metal and warm. "No!" Harry shouted as the familiar hook grabbed a hold of his navel and his feet contacted untrampled snow. He jerked back and bumped into a sapling which gave then sprung straight, pushing him aside. "No!" he shouted again, furious this time. "Why the hell did you do that?" he shouted at Snape and growled in anger.  
  
Snape paused a moment before replying. "The Headmaster ordered me to, Potter." He turned and set the portkey in the triple fork of a small tree.   
  
Harry rubbed his scar which had eased considerably although it still throbbed menacingly. "Ron and Ginny needed help!" Harry ranted at him, barely controlling the urge to shift from furious to something more violent.  
  
"Help was fast arriving, Mr. Potter. You can be assured." Snape spoke calmly, which aggravated Harry even as it eased his panic. Snape considered him a long moment before stepping over and grabbing his arm.  
  
"What now?" Harry asked rudely.   
  
That world popped out and another popped in. The snow lay deeper here and the wind blew fiercer as it whipped through the bare brush around them. Snape stepped away and Harry, after a moment's hesitation, followed.  
  
"Can I ask where we are?" Harry said when he finally caught up with his much longer-legged Professor.  
  
"Somewhere I do not expect the Dark Lord to look for you," Snape answered calmly.  
  
Harry followed in silence for over forty-five minutes. Long enough that his short boots had filled with snow and now icy water. Long enough that his rabbit-lined gloves no longer kept the feeling in his fingertips. He felt deaf from the cold wind when the walk through the woods finally ended. Snape stepped onto a two-track and abruptly turned right. He checked back to make sure Harry still hung behind him and picked a trail around a deep drift. Fifty yards on, a clearing revealed a small manor house of sorts with a black wrought iron fence around it.  
  
Harry waited a few steps back as instructed while Snape opened a doorway into what turned out to be several layers of rather complicated spells surrounding the property. He took Harry's shoulders and steered him through the gate with an admonishment to be careful to the sides of him. Harry waited again on the other side as the spells were resealed.  
  
"Is this your house?" Harry asked, his brain finally thawing a little.  
  
"Yes," Snape replied as he stepped briskly past Harry and up the neatly shoveled walk, cleared just up to the gate in the fence.  
  
"Who else is here?" Harry asked, not prepared to meet any more Snapes at this moment.  
  
They reached the front door. "No one." The door handle turned without any further unlocking and Harry followed behind into the dark interior. A curtain beside Harry moved aside and grey-blue outside light filtered into the central hallway. Wrought iron steps rose overhead to the first floor. Snape stepped across the slate to to the far end of the hall. Harry followed after a moment, gazing into the drawing room on the right as he passed. His friends were going to want to hear all about this, he thought, as he tried to take in the details. The drawing room and then the dining room visible through the next doorway were disappointingly completely normal. Harry pulled off his gloves and blew on his fingers as he peered at the long mahogany table and dark blue furnishings.  
  
"This way." Snape's voice interrupted Harry's touring. Harry turned as his teacher stepped down a set of stone stairs set in the floor, the opening protected by yet another iron railing. Harry followed slowly into the darkness, speeding up only when a wall-mounted oil lamp flared yellow to light the way at the bottom.  
  
Harry expected dust and grime down here, but everything was clean and neat. "Who takes care of this place?" Harry asked as he stepped into a narrow room, clearly the kitchen, although it was one out of a museum. Outside light filtered through the small windows near the ceiling on one side.  
  
"The house-elf, of course," Snape replied as he flicked his wand and the neatly prepared kindling and wood in the large cooking hearth ignited.   
  
Harry wasn't a willing member of SPEW, but he wouldn't have defined that as "no one." He kept his comments to himself and moved over to stand before the blazing hearth which was nearly as tall as himself.  
  
Snape removed his cloak, hanging it on a hook on the wall that made up the side of the hearth. He took Harry's damp cloak as well and hung it beside. Harry held his hands out to the radiating warmth of the fire. The long cold walk had left him stiff and tired but the heat chased away the stiffness nicely. Quickly, the fire became too much so he took off his soaked boots and set them beside the hearth bricks and stepped back until his face didn't sting from the heat.  
  
Snape moved around the room, lighting the wall lamps and taking things out. Harry backed up to the roughhewn table and benches on the far end of the room and sat down. It was warm now all the way over here. He rested his chin on his hand and watched his professor take out potatoes, onions, and carrots from the pantry and reduce them to peeled and chopped with just a wave of a wand. They then went into the cauldron on a long arm along with several small bottles of milk and one of cream from an antique icebox. Harry had never before seen an actual icebox. Snape stirred the cauldron with a wooden spoon as he bent over to inspect it.  
  
Harry laughed lightly at this and got a snide, "Something funny?" in response.  
  
"Potato soup potion," Harry commented, trying to control his grin of amusement. Domesticity and Snape were not a combination that had previously seemed possible. Snape didn't reply. He used a double-hooked metal rod to rotate the arm so the cauldron hung over the fire, then he came over and sat on end of the bench opposite Harry, facing the fire.  
  
"How long are we going to be here?" Harry asked.  
  
"Until I receive an all-clear that it is safe to return."  
  
"How will you get that?" Harry asked. Since Dumbledore's comment to him regarding Order communications, Harry had been very curious.  
  
Snape put his hand on his chin as well. "That is not for you to know if you do not already."  
  
"Like anything is," Harry commented bitterly.  
  
A long pause ensued. "The headmaster is adamant that you be protected, Potter," Snape stated in annoyance.  
  
Harry had looked away toward the fire but he now looked back at his professor and studied his hooked-nose profile. "You don't know why, do you?" Harry asked in surprise. That notion shook him a little. Everyone was so in the dark about everything; how could anything ever work out? How could he get help with this when he needed it if no one understood?  
  
Snape continued to stare into the hearth. "My sense, Potter, is that only Dumbledore and Moody know that reason. Since I have not been told, you should not tell me." The last part of this came out quietly but with each word like a hammer strike.  
  
Harry put his forehead on both of his palms as his chest felt too heavy to bear. No wonder Dumbledore hadn't told him the prophecy sooner; he obsessed over it now ever moment his mind wasn't otherwise occupied. Besides the tantalizing aroma of the soup there wasn't anything else to think about other than worrying about his friends in Hogsmeade.  
  
They sat in silence for a long while until Snape stood up and left the room. Harry put his head down on this arms at that point and closed his eyes.  
  
He didn't think he had fallen asleep but the next thing he knew, a bowl of something hot clunked onto the table in front of him. As he sat up, Snape handed him a bone-handled spoon and a cloth. Harry pulled the bowl closer, his stomach complaining painfully as he caught a whiff of the soup and the chopped ham floating on the surface.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Harry said. He waited as Snape stepped over the bench and sat down. He had changed his robe for a dark blue one that Harry had never seen him wear for class. When his Professor started eating, Harry did as well. Each spoonful was boiling hot, requiring a lot of blowing before it was safe. Harry's stomach didn't unclench until he managed to get down half the bowl. "Good soup, sir," Harry remembered to say at that point.  
  
"You sound surprised,' Snape commented with his usual snide. When Harry just shrugged, he went on. "You yourself commented that it is just a kind of potion."  
  
Harry didn't risk any more comments through his two helpings of soup. The light coming in the small windows was fading as he set his bowl in the sink. The sink operated with a chain that connected to a weighted block that closed a carved marble sluice sticking out of the wall. Harry shook his head at the crudeness of it and mulled that without magic this all would be sheer drudgery.  
  
Snape stepping up beside him brought Harry out of his thoughts. "I will show you where you can sleep," he said and walked out.  
  
Harry followed him up the stone steps then up the metal ones, trying to keep his imagination at bay as to why it wasn't yet safe to return. A runner affixed down the middle of the iron staircase deadened the sound of their footsteps. At the first door along the landing, Snape indicated Harry should enter. Harry pushed the heavy door the rest of the way open and stepped into a large bedroom. Someone who liked reds of all kinds had decorated it a long time ago.   
  
Snape hung in the doorway as Harry explored the room. "You may use anything you find. It certainly doesn't matter," he stated coldly and walked away.  
  
Harry stared at the empty doorway a minute before opening the wardrobe. Three dark grey shirts hung there as well as a rather gaudy maroon lounge coat and a white and grey striped nightshirt. Harry took the nightshirt out and headed back down to the cellar where he had seen the toilet and bath.  
  
The toilet was maybe only a hundred years old and therefore the height of modern water closet technology. The bath was a stone basin sunken halfway into the floor like something Caesar might have used. Another sluice led to it from what Harry now realized was a stone cistern built into the back wall of the kitchen hearth. At least that made sense even if cavemen could have constructed it. Harry washed up with a small towel and feeling much better, slipped on the nightshirt and headed back up to the bedroom. The sky was now completely black and the room lit only by the oil lamp by the bed. Exhausted and with nothing better to do, Harry crawled into the high bed and fell asleep.  
  
Harry woke the next morning to a very cold room. Only now did he realize he should have lit the fire in the grate. He pulled out his wand and managed the damper before igniting a fire, all without leaving the warmth of the down duvet. Curling back up to wait for the room to warm, Harry wondered again what might be going on. Certainly Dumbledore, the teachers and other members of the Order quickly repelled the Death Eaters from Hogsmeade. Unable to imagine why they had chosen to attack, he moved on to worrying about Ginny and Hermione and any of the other frozen witches and wizards. Maybe that was what required so much time, getting everyone unspelled again.  
  
Finally when it was warm enough, Harry slid out of bed and over to the wardrobe. His own clothes and robe were gone--he could only assume the house-elf had taken them for a well needed cleaning. The red housecoat looked as garish in the morning light as it had the night before. Frowning, he slipped it on and checked himself in the narrow mirror inside the door of the wardrobe. It didn't look as odd on him as it did on the hanger. He spelled the hem shorter so it didn't drag on the ground and tucked his wand into the very convenient wand pocket beside the lapel.  
  
Feeling a little silly, he put his hands in the large side pockets and leaned back a little to mimic a distinguished, middle-aged person. His left hand encountered something hard and oddly shaped. He pulled it out. It was a silver-plated cat in an elongated pose with an elongated body. He fingered it a long minute before pocketing it again, feeling as though he didn't have the right to remove it even if no one cared he wore the robe.  
  
The scent of breakfast led him back down to the kitchen. Snape gave his mode of dress a sharp once-over, then ignored it. Harry took his same seat at the servant's table and had a plate of baked beans and fried egg set in front of him. Dazed, he watched as a rusted metal box was swung out of the fire and toasted bread removed from it with two slices set on his plate and two on the plate across from him. Lastly, Snape came over with a heavy skillet full of sizzling bacon. He forked two slices out for himself and then the rest for Harry. The soft, noisy strips formed a literal mound on his plate between the beans and the egg.  
  
Harry just stared at it.   
  
Snape returned and sat down and picked up his own fork, then stopped when he spotted Harry's expression or lack thereof. "Potter, is something the matter?" he asked in confusion.  
  
Something felt very wrong, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it, precisely. The bacon smelled really good, making him dizzy with hunger. The notion that Snape, of all people, would automatically treat him better than his aunt and uncle was definitely making him feel odd, but that only seemed to get at the surface emotions swirling in him.  
  
Snape set his fork down and put his chin on his hand. He considered Harry a while. "Potter, I don't think I've ever seen anyone undone by a double portion of bacon before." It could have been a snide comment, but it came out merely factual.  
  
Because he couldn't bear to look up, Harry took his fork and twirled a piece of bacon around the teins. It tasted even better than it smelled. A bite of toast absorbed the oil pooling on his tongue. He noticed again with a twinge that Snape had made several things for him that he wasn't even eating himself. He also noticed that Snape hadn't started eating yet, just watched him closely. The scrutiny made his morning hunger flee faster than eating could have.  
  
Snape finally took a bite of toast. "What is it with you and breakfast?" he asked.  
  
Harry shrugged but it was too obviously a diversion. He piled some beans onto his toast and ate it, careful to keep it level. They were good too.  
  
"The potato soup didn't bring on this reaction," Snape stated as though thinking aloud.  
  
Harry closed his eyes a moment. His Professor clearly wasn't going to let it go and this pursuit of an explanation was too much to take along with everything else he was worried about. Taking a deep breath to loosen his chest, Harry said quietly, "My aunt and uncle used to punish me by not feeding me." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Shame flushed his cheeks. Snape already thought as little of him as Harry ever imagined anyone thinking, this certainly wasn't going to help.   
  
The scent of the bacon as he stabbed another piece on his fork reminded him of tortuous starved mornings of making breakfast when he wasn't allowed to eat any of it.  
  
Snape put his fork down again. "For how long at a time?"  
  
Harry swallowed hard. His mind wanted to not be hungry but his stomach disagreed. "A few days. The longest was supposed to be a week but I passed out, I think, before then." More blood tried to rush to his face and he fought it valiantly.  
  
"Is that legal in the Muggle world?"  
  
Harry blinked at him and shrugged. That had never occurred to him.  
  
"What transgression did you commit to justify such treatment?" Snape asked, still in a factual tone.   
  
Harry thought a moment, scratching his chest and slouching a little more. "Doing magic, I guess," he said, dredging through memories he had left lying for a long time. At Snape's raised brow, he added defensively, "I didn't know what it was."  
  
"Didn't know what what was?" Snape asked.  
  
"Huh?" Harry asked in return, feeling as though he'd lost the thread.  
  
Snape sat back. "I'm sorry, Potter. I thought you just said you didn't know what magic was."  
  
"I didn't know," Harry said, confused and more embarrassed. He had always assumed all the teachers knew that he had grown up not knowing about magic. Maybe Hagrid was the only one and Dumbledore hadn't told anyone else. The topic had never come up directly. "I didn't know about magic until Hagrid came to take me to school."  
  
The Potions professor looked about as stunned as Harry had ever seen him, though maybe not as stunned as when Harry talked to the snake during Dueling Club in second year.  
  
"And your scar was explained to you, how?" Snape asked a little sharply.  
  
"Oh," he said and rubbed it unconsciously. He wished even more that this conversation had never gotten started. "They told me I got it in the car accident that they claimed killed my parents."  
  
His professor rubbed his eyebrow slowly with his fingertips as he took that in. "But they knew better, I presume?"  
  
"Yes. They admitted later they were trying beat magic out of me," Harry added darkly.  
  
Snape stood suddenly and took both plates away. He poured out two coffees from a small, strange silver pot and brought those back. Harry felt relieved to have gotten that out in the open but more uneasy in other ways, as though he had shown Snape an opening he could abuse.  
  
They sipped coffee in silence with only the fire in the hearth making significant noise. Snape stared into his cup. A stained crack ran from the lip almost to the base. He traced it with one long finger. "Did you complain to the headmaster before he sent you back to your relatives for the summer?" Snape sounded curious now.  
  
Harry wanted the topic ended. "He didn't give me any choice. He didn't explain why until later--he told me it was the only place I was safe from Voldemort." Snape flinched and clenched his cup hard a moment. "Sorry," Harry said. He really hadn't meant to name him; he wasn't feeling nearly secure or defiant enough at the moment.  
  
After Snape continued to stare at him as though trying to work that out, Harry explained, "Dumbledore extended the old magic that protected me the last time, but it only works with my aunt."  
  
"That is not part of what you are not supposed to tell me--is it, Potter?"  
  
Harry laughed, a scoff really. "No."  
  
Snape relaxed marginally and finished off his coffee.  
  
"Still no signal?" Harry asked.  
  
"I will tell you immediately when there is," his teacher explained and stood up. "If you feel like reading something there are a number of volumes in the library. Bring your cup if you wish."  
  
Harry stood up and followed his professor out and up to the ground floor. Across the hall from the dining room was a sizable library. Harry set his cup down beside one of the overstuffed chairs and perused the shelves. Of the three books on Quidditch, there was one he had never seen: _Quidditch for the Quality_. He frowned at the title but took it over to the chair and opened it at random. Snape, who had moved to the writing desk and pulled out a sheaf of parchments, paid no attention to him.  
  
Harry flipped through a few sections of the book and then decided to start at the beginning. The book was clearly a copy his professor had owned in school. The margin had the occasional remark about the text or about someone else. Someone named Boris had also added the occasional note or diagram of a play. The book itself was full of arcane strategy, much more complicated then anything they ever tried to run at school. He wondered idly if Snape would let him borrow it. When he turned the page and found a scrawled note referring to James Potter as an obnoxious jerk, Harry figured he could find another copy.  
  
He glanced surreptitiously at Snape working at the desk, deep in something involving several piles of parchment. He turned back to the book and ran his finger over the scrawled writing. The nib had torn through the page on the "t"s in "Potter." Harry stared at the unfaded India ink, feeling nothing except a kind of hollowness. He turned the page and forced himself to start reading about a play called the _Gradient Gorge_.  
  
After an hour, Harry traded the book back to the shelf for one on dueling that looked too stodgy to be a schoolbook. He expected at any moment to be called back to Hogwarts. Each hour seemed surprisingly long as a result.

* * *

**Notes**  
To snapefan, thanks for pointing out that brain warp word replacement there. A Red Bludger isn't a complete stretch, but not what I was going for.   
To Esmerelda Black, adultfanfiction.net seems to be in a state of chaos, some very nice person sent me a rather long list of potential places. I'll have to pick one by chapter 3 :) or risk you all coming through my internet connection at me.   
To byron245, well gosh, didn't honestly realize I was doing that well. If the mood strikes, I'll fix it up a bit, but it will still be hanging because the best I can see is figuring out what exactly Harry can be useful for within the Order without putting him at risk. That and resolving his sexual awareness a bit better, which is what I was trying to do with Ginny. Hm, maybe the elements are there and I just didn't execute them satisfactorily. hmmm and hmmm.   
To ntamera, this is so snarry it is barbed wire and bear traps.   
To xikum, interesting observation, hadn't thought of that. Just found it realistic for Dumbledore to have his own reasons for things, and too bad, that's the way it is going to be.   
To Slytherinkid07, length, let's see . . . the draft is 140 pages and it is missing some stuff near the middle (where Harry turns evil and thinks he's a hobbit) and the end (breaking up is hard to do, and how pissed does mcgonagall get when you blackmail her). I'd say 200 pages thereabouts. (Just a little exaggeration on the plot there--just a little)


	3. A Memorable Christmas

Chapter 3 -- A Memorable Christmas  
  
Leftover soup filled in for lunch, then Harry decided maybe to change out of his borrowed clothes since his had probably been returned. Harry had managed to find out that the house-elf's name was Esme and that she kept very much to herself. He was more than willing to believe that, not having caught even a glimpse of her.  
  
Up in his room, Harry hung the robe back up as well as the borrowed nightshirt. His things lay neatly over the chair; his shirt whiter and better pressed than it had ever been. Aunt Petunia would have forsaken her hatred of magic if she had known about house-elves, Harry was certain.   
  
As he pulled his own robe over his clothes, Harry thought again about the cat figurine in the housecoat. He took it out and looked it over, realizing now what it was--it was a toy from a Christmas cracker. It was Christmas Eve today, he thought with some shock as he rubbed his thumb over the seam running along the length of the trinket. After putting the figure back in the left-hand pocket and shutting the wardrobe, Harry went and sat on the overstuffed chair near the window and stared out at the snow, a grey blanket beneath thick grey clouds.  
  
With great care, Harry relived as much of last Christmas as he could remember, filling in where he couldn't precisely. He rested his damp eyes on his sleeve and sat unmoving for over an hour, until he sensed someone behind him, in the doorway. Hoping it was Esme was far too optimistic. Harry swallowed hard and lifted his head but didn't turn around.  
  
Snape's voice was level as he said, "I realize that this is probably not your preferred way to spend Christmas."  
  
Harry thought about gifts of Vernon's old socks and Dudley's massive undershirts. He thought about never seeing Sirius again. "I don't care about Christmas," Harry said evenly, still staring out the window.  
  
After a pause, Snape said, "Neither do I, Potter." Harry heard his footsteps fade as he departed._  
_  
An hour later, feeling caged, Harry returned to the library. "Is it all right if I take a walk around outside?"  
  
Snape didn't look up as he said, "As long as you do not approach the fence--the spells around the property are designed to be terribly close to fatal."  
  
Harry collected his cloak from the kitchen and headed outside. The air bit more sharply than he thought it would, making it hard to breathe. He walked around the lee side of the house out of the wind and slowed down to study the landscape. A few old trees surrounded by brush made up the clearing beyond the fence. Dense young forest rose up beyond that, shielding the view, even in winter. Harry started up the hill behind the house. If there were gardens laid out, they were buried too deep in snow to see. The property extended a good distance in the back, far enough for him to work up a sweat climbing the hill in the snow.   
  
Halfway up, the grass grew longer and stuck out of the undulating white in random brown tufts. The unevenness made the going slower, but by this time, Harry was enjoying this little freedom too much to turn back. The rise levelled off and a flat mown area, surrounded by its own fence, came into view with a lone tombstone. The two Snapes chiseled on it must be his professor's parents. Harry thought back to the worst of his Occlumency lessons. The very brief glimpses he had gotten of Snape's memories did not resemble this house. They must have moved here later. The first ones to do so. The dates of death were buried in snow and Harry didn't feel like intruding to read them. He walked on instead.  
  
At the back fence, Harry could just see over the top of the rise and out over the hills. In the distance a small town sat between the hillocks. Sunlight stabbed through the clouds here and there making him imagine that somewhere other people were enjoying themselves without a care while here he stood with this weight of responsibility too large to carry.   
  
He thought back to his fight with Voldemort in the graveyard. It occurred to him that not knowing he was supposed to vanquish the Dark Lord probably saved his life. Surviving was all Harry could have managed and he might have been unwise enough to have tried to end it there instead.  
  
After his toes went numb, Harry turned and slowly walked back to the house. Snape hadn't moved from the writing desk. Harry searched the bookshelf again. This time _Spells of War_ looked more interesting than it had previously. He settled into the chair with it, lighting the nearby lamp to see better.  
  
If Binn's History of Magic lessons included this stuff, Harry would be getting a much better grade. The book was full of gruesome battle scenes where complicated, multi-wizard spells were used to take down attacking giants, giant spiders, and conjured battle monsters. He didn't look up from the book until the writing desk drawer snapped closed.   
  
"There is some cold joint if you are hungry," Snape said offhandedly.  
  
Harry was definitely so, his cold walk assured that, but he had not noticed until asked. He set the book down on the small table that held the lamp and followed his host down to the kitchen.  
  
They ate cold roast mutton so tender it fell apart as Harry wrapped his bread around it. When he sat back after filling up, he almost asked if there had been a message. He decided not to test Snape's patience and to trust what he had said earlier.   
  
"Can I use the bath?" Harry asked instead.  
  
Snape spelled more wood onto the embers of the hearth fire. "Give it a half hour or so to heat."  
  
Harry took his time collecting the nightshirt and housecoat. Back down in the bathroom he found towels and soap in a carved stone alcove around the corner from the door. He wondered, not for the first time, how Esme kept everything so organized without ever being visible.  
  
Harry discovered a feature of this Roman era bath that even his Aunt Petunia's shiny modern porcelain one could not hold up to: no waiting. It took less than twenty seconds for the bath to fill with steaming water once the sluice was opened. As he unhooked the cord holding the block open, he could hear another one move in the wall and water running into the cistern to refill it. As he settled into the marvelously hot water, he decided he would stop making fun of the ancient plumbing.  
  
Clean and very relaxed, Harry dressed in the nightshirt and robe, respelled again to shorten it, and returned to the library since he was still alert despite being relaxed. He realized as he settled into the same chair with his feet tucked under him that he carried the aura of Lavender with him now from the soap. It wasn't a smell he was used to and it made him worry more starkly what exactly was going on back at Hogsmeade and the school. Rubbing his temple to distract himself he buried his mind in the book again with an obsessive thirst for anything that might help him later.  
  
Snape stepped into the library just as Harry was rereading a section on disemboweling spells. "It is getting late," he stated simply.  
  
"Is it?" Harry asked, surprised.  
  
Matter-of-factly, Snape said, "I expect to get a message in the early morning, but that is of course, conjecture."   
  
Harry closed the book and stood up with it. He stretched his neck and put the book back on the shelf just as the clock in the hall chimed twelve. Harry stood with his hand on the shelf a moment, listening. When it stopped, he turned to Snape. Neither of them spoke as Harry stepped passed him and headed for the stairs.  
  
#########  
  
The next morning Harry awoke with the grey daylight. Eager to find out if they had been called back, he tossed on the robe and only remembered to respell it after he tripped on the hem on the way out of the room. As he headed for the stairs, Snape stepped out of the room on the end. He met Harry's gaze and gave him a small shake of the head. Harry deflated and frowned. "How long do we wait?" he asked.  
  
"As long as it takes. You may not understand obeying authority, Potter, but it is essential for the Order. Otherwise we would be _all_ dead," he replied.  
  
Harry's brow furrowed as he wondered if Snape meant something more by that. His suspicious look didn't fade as his teacher approached along the balcony.   
  
"Is it possible to have a normal breakfast this morning, Potter?" Snape went on in one of his typical tones. Harry flinched slightly and looked away. Quietly, Snape said, "I should not have said that. Let's try it again." He started down the steps. "Come, Mr. Potter," he said in a much gentler voice, "let's get you some breakfast."  
  
Still stinging, Harry followed. In the kitchen, he sat in the same place and stared at the rough-grained tabletop while preparation was underway. Eventually, two plates with identical servings of beans, toast, and egg were placed on the table. Harry noticed that Snape had cottoned on to everything that had struck him the day before. He hoped he was not always so transparent.  
  
Harry piled the beans onto his toast and said, "I'm not trying to find out anything I'm not supposed to know, but it is Dumbledore who initiates this message, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What if . . . he's not available to do it? Who would send it then?"  
  
After a silence, Harry looked up. It appeared that Snape had been avoiding this line of thinking. "McGonagall, I would suppose."  
  
"Does she know how?" he asked, hoping that wasn't a stupid question. Snape shook his head faintly and Harry went on, "It would take her some time to figure out how, right?"  
  
"A few days, I would presume."  
  
Harry pushed some of the overflowing beans off his now soggy toast. "I don't think that's what's going on."  
  
"No?" Snape asked sarcastically. "And why is that?"  
  
He thought for a while back over the last few days. "If . . . the Dark Lord managed that, he would be pretty ecstatic. I'd have felt that."  
  
Snape studied him closely before returning in silence to his own breakfast. Eventually he poured coffee for them both and put his plate aside. Harry still pushed his remaining beans around although he had eaten his toast and egg.  
  
"How long will you wait?" Harry asked again.  
  
His teacher took a deep breath. "It is going to become somewhat problematic in a week as I have other . . . things I must attend to."  
  
"And school isn't one of them?" Harry asked, since Hogwarts restarted in three more days.  
  
"Not without a signal it isn't."  
  
For a moment, Harry could not breath. To cover, he picked up his plate and took it to the sink. Visions flitted through his mind of much more elaborate destruction than he had imagined previously. It made him dizzy. Snape interrupted his dark musings with a, "Come and drink your coffee, Potter." As Harry sat down and stared into his cup, Snape said, "Let me know if you do feel anything from the Dark Lord. Please."  
  
Harry looked up in surprise. "You must really be worried if you are being that polite," he commented, then couldn't stop the corner of his mouth curling up. He expected an annoyed look in return but instead received a tolerant raised brow. Harry shook his head at the notion that they now understood each other this well. "I'll let you know," he said. "It hasn't happened much this year."  
  
"That is something, anyway." Snape took a sip from his cup and then cradled it in his hands. "I will confess to you that I am concerned. I expected overnight at the longest. I cannot come up with an explanation for this delay." He stood up and refilled their cups from the small pot before returning to his seat. "At the risk of bringing up bad memories for you, I wonder if you would satisfy my curiosity." At Harry's shrug, he went on. "I have been contemplating this rather remarkable notion of Harry Potter not knowing there is such a thing as magic." Harry dropped his gaze and stared into his teacup full of coffee. "I am curious what kind of spells you were casting. They clearly were powerful enough to alert your relatives."  
  
"Why do you want to know?" Harry asked.  
  
"Early spells are very indicative of a wizard's latent power."  
  
Harry's face twisted in thought. "I'll tell you that if you'll show me some of the spells I found in a book upstairs."  
  
"It depends upon which spell, but in theory I'll agree to that. We have nothing else to do today."  
  
Yeah, it's only Christmas, Harry thought wryly. He took a careful sip of his reheated coffee and thought a minute. "The earliest thing I remember was my Uncle Vernon not being able to hold onto me when he had grabbed me for something Dudley had actually done, but blamed me for, a broken lamp or something. That happened a bunch of times." He looked at his Professor for a reaction.  
  
"Auto-repelling charms are a very common early magic."  
  
"The one that startled me the most was one day at school Dudley and his friends were chasing me and somehow I ended up on the roof when I was hiding behind the rubbish bins."  
  
"You Apparated," Snape commented and sipped his coffee.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I did," Harry said a little proudly. "I hadn't thought about it that way." He paused again. "Then there was the time I did something to the car. We were driving to Dudley's birthday party at a restaurant and I was really angry because I never got anything on my birthday. The car just stopped and my aunt made my Uncle Vernon look under the hood, which was kind of stupid since he doesn't know anything about them. I don't know what actually happened to the engine but he was really, really furious."   
  
Harry fell thoughtfully quiet. That was the time they didn't feed him for a week although it fell short by a few days. He remembered now waking up in his cupboard with his aunt giving him ginger ale. During his punishment, the smell of bacon as he had prepared breakfast every morning had made him nearly psychotic with hunger. He shook himself. "It must have been a transfiguration because the mechanic who towed the car later said there was nothing wrong with it. So the spell wore off after a while."  
  
Harry was warmed up to this topic now. "It was getting more common just before my letters from Hogwarts."  
  
"Letters?" Snape asked. "How many did you need?"  
  
"Thousands. Only it wasn't me who needed them--it was my aunt and uncle." Harry grinned at the memory now, knowing Dumbledore had sent them all. "On another birthday trip for Dudley at the zoo, he was teasing one of the snakes when the glass just disappeared." Harry grinned again and reached for the sugar to sweeten his coffee more. "That worked out; the snake wanted to see Brazil anyway."  
  
Snape shook his head lightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How long of a conversation did you have with this snake?"  
  
"A few minutes. I was a very nice snake--it thanked me on the way out." At his professor's look, Harry added, "Hey, talking to snakes doesn't seem as strange as flying on a broomstick."  
  
"To you."  
  
"To me," Harry admitted.  
  
Snape stood. "Go up to the library and look up the spells you wish to learn in the compendium, which is on the bottom right shelf. I have to take care of a few things."  
  
Harry jumped up eagerly and went out. He laid books out on the pull out shelves beneath the upper part of the floor to ceiling shelving. As he studied them, he tapped his wand on the wood nervously. Eventually, Snape stepped up behind him and read over his shoulder. He reached out and flipped the book cover to look at the title, _Spells of War_. After a long pause, his professor said, "You do not wish to leave such things to others?"  
  
Harry turned to him, finding him much closer than expected. He didn't have a response to that and Snape's sharp eyes seemed to read his expression much too well. Scrambling for a distraction, Harry said, "That didn't work last time, did it?"  
  
Snape sighed. "No," he admitted. He flipped the book back open where he had marked the place with his finger and picked it up. "This requires at least six wizards."  
  
"It looks useful though," Harry said. It was a trapping spell that could capture over twenty people or creatures.  
  
"It is a short-lived spell." Snape closed the book and set it down. "Let me think about what I could show you that may be more useful to you."  
  
Harry gave him a pained look before he could hide it. I need to destroy the Dark Lord, he wanted to say. Show me how to do that. He watched in silence as his professor paged through the compendium thoughtfully, watched as Snape bit his lip and for a moment stared unseeing at a page about gnome repelling.  
  
"Why don't you go outside for some fresh air, Potter. You could probably use it."  
  
Harry hesitated in surprise then shrugged and with just one backward glance, left the room to go change into his clothes.  
  
Taking his time, Harry followed his previous tracks around the property, diverging sometimes to step closer to the fence, Close enough that he could feel the protective spells as they made his skin inch. He startled a rabbit and it hopped in a mad, darting escape path. For a moment, Harry feared it would run headlong into the barrier, but it veered off as though it too could feel it. It stopped in the sparse grass and sat still as though it were now invisible.  
  
The cold finally cut short Harry's slow tour of the property. He returned and went back to the now empty library. He picked up the compendium and found a scrap parchment and pen and began noting which spells he thought looked useful.   
  
After he had paged through the first third of the massive volume, Harry's nose picked up something that made his stomach growl ferociously. He closed the large book, using his scrap as a bookmark and walked down to the kitchen. "A goose," he said in surprise when he saw the quickly browning bird turning slowly on a charmed rotisserie.   
  
Snape looked up from what might have been a cookbook. "I had Esme pick it up since she was making a trip for groceries anyway."  
  
Harry blinked at that. He had forgotten about the house-elf. "It smells wonderful," Harry observed to cover his lapse.  
  
"It will take over two hours before it is done," his teacher said. When Harry stepped over to look at the book he had out, Snape stepped away suddenly and opened the pantry and began taking out onions. Harry mulled over that a moment and then looked at the open page. He could only pick out a few words. The handwriting was neat but the upstrokes long and flourished and the letters themselves very small. If he hadn't known it was a recipe for roasting fowl he probably would not have been able to read any of it.  
  
Feeling a little put out, Harry headed back up to the library and returned to the compendium. The scent distracted him almost constantly as lunchtime came and went. He felt as though he hadn't eaten in days rather than having just had a full breakfast this morning. The delicious scent tormented him until Snape came up and told him it was ready. Harry followed him down, this time to the dining room, followed in a faint trail of Lavender.  
  
"I thought we could try to be a bit more civilized," Snape commented.   
  
Harry took a seat at one of the two place settings and looked around the room. Deep blue sashes framed the windows. They matched the worn velvet of the chairs. Harry looked expectantly at Snape, whose hair looked a little damp, which explained the underlying scent. Snape wanded the Goose to the platter awaiting it. Harry swallowed a mouthful of saliva at the sight of the crispy sizzling meat. A quick spell rendered the perfect brown bird into servings. Harry reached out for a leg and then served himself potatoes and vegetables. Heady, scented steam rose from the piece on his plate as he stared at it.  
  
"Go ahead, Potter," Snape said.  
  
The vegetables were ordinary but the goose was heavenly. Harry consumed three servings of meat and sat back with a groan. "Did you enjoy it?" Snape asked.  
  
Harry sat up with a start. "Sorry," he apologized for forgetting his manners. "It was delicious. Too delicious." He gingerly rubbed his stomach and leaned back to ease the ache there.  
  
Snape put his serviette beside his plate, stood up and went to the sideboard. He opened a dark bottle of something. The cork made a dull popping noise like the sound some wizards made when apparating, the ones that managed to do it quietly. After pouring out two small glasses, he brought them back and placed one before Harry. "That will make your stomach feel a little better." He sat back down and as Harry reached for the glass, which resembled a small wine glass, Snape said, "Ah, just a moment." He took out his wand and tapped Harry's glass. "Go ahead now."  
  
When Harry picked it up, it was pleasantly warm. He sniffed it and nearly choked on the fumes. "What is it?"  
  
Snape sipped his own heated glass. "Brandy."  
  
"Oh," Harry said. It was a trick to sip without breathing, but he managed by taking a deep breath first. A path burned down to his stomach after he swallowed, but it did ease the straining ache there.  
  
They drank in silence, the grey daylight faded from the tall windows and the wind picked up, chilling the room. "Did you find some other spells you wished to learn?" Snape finally asked when Harry had finished the last of his dark liquid.  
  
"Yes," Harry replied, turning the small glass around in his fingers. He felt conflictingly heavy and light at the same time.  
  
"Why don't you go back to the library were there is a fire," Snape said as he stood and wanded the remains of the bird back to the kitchen. "I will join you in a few minutes."  
  
Harry put the small glass down, a little clumsily, and stood up. With more attention to his feet than normal, he stepped across the hall and opened the compendium again.   
  
Harry caught himself tapping the black quill feather on the shelf as he read and forced himself to stop as it was a really nice one. He flipped forward a few pages, looking for interesting illustrations. The spells were coded for usefulness and indexed by it, but Harry didn't like the codings. Sometimes common spells were more useful than elaborate ones, especially in a panic when one didn't have time to do any lengthy conjuring.  
  
He didn't hear Snape approach, but a waft of Lavender made Harry turn his head to find his professor directly beside him again, reading over his shoulder. Harry handed him the parchment scrap with his list. Snape read it and set it down on the shelf above the book.  
  
Harry flipped the page. "Any of those look useful to you?" he asked.  
  
"A few of them," Snape replied. His voice sounded off to Harry, lower.  
  
A spell for lassoing fire and moving it caught his eye. Harry reached for the parchment and quill.   
  
"What would you use that for?" Snape asked, curious.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Just looks interesting." He jotted it down and turned the page and continued perusing. With his professor looking over his shoulder, Harry read the next few pages. There was a lot of the book still to go and he thought maybe he should stop looking at the end of that section. He frowned in stress at the many pages of spells he couldn't possibly find the time to learn. Panic weaseled its way into Harry's chest, choking off his breath. There was no chance of fulfilling the prophecy--he was going to let everyone down, forced to watch everyone die while it happened.  
  
Harry's quill-laden hand fell on the next open page with a thud as dry fingertips touched his temple at his glasses and traced down his cheek. The gesture utterly undid his thoughts. He wondered if this were what an Imperio felt like, because he couldn't move, even when the fingers slowly combed up through his hair and pulled his head over. He drew in a hard breath as Snape slid his other arm around him and closed the space between them. The quill fell to the floor, unnoticed, as his face pressed into the dark blue plush of Snape's robe. Harry's heart pattered wildly in his chest as Snape lifted his glasses off and set them on a nearby shelf. Long fingers combed through his hair again before he was wrapped up and pulled tighter.   
  
They stood that way for a long time, until Harry's heartbeat and breathing slowed to something akin to normal. No one had held him that way before. Dudley received all of the affection available from Aunt Petunia and other than momentary hugs from Mrs. Weasley, adults never even tried to get this close to him.   
  
Harry floated. Someone else had responsibility for everything at that moment and the brandy now reinforced that by making his head spin when he tried to worry about anything. Snape's hand rubbed his back slowly down and up, drawing out the last of his resistance. Harry grabbed hold of the thick robe as Snape's arms loosened, shifted up past his shoulders and carefully tilted his head back. His breath quickened again as he took in his teacher's piercing dark eyes.   
  
Frozen still, Harry wondered if maybe he had been put under an Imperius Curse. Why else hadn't he pushed away or expressed what really should be dismay. He was unable to move because some part of him was as hungry for this as his stomach had been an hour ago for the Christmas goose, only he hadn't recognized it.  
  
As Snape's dark eyes search his face; his fingers traced his brow. Harry had never seen a look like that; it startled him. Snape's intense gaze made him look as though he thought Harry to be the most precious thing he had ever seen. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, why his teacher had suddenly pulled him so close, but he didn't get a chance to give voice to his questions as Snape's mouth covered his.  
  
Harry realized immediately that he had no clue what kissing really entailed. Soft lips moved over his own still ones hungrily, nipping and sucking lightly. He made a small sound and Snape pulled up and stared at him. His professor's shoulders dropped as he said, "You truly are innocent, aren't you, Potter?"  
  
"What?" Harry asked. He didn't like the sound of that word; rebelled against it even.  
  
Snape let him go and picked up the compendium and walked to the desk. "Let's go over a few of these, shall we," he said in a completely normal voice.  
  
Harry stood by the bookshelf and gaped at him. Chills were still roaming up and down Harry's arms. He watched, stunned as Snape moved a sculpture off its stone pillar then shifted the pillar in front of an empty stone wall. "Potter?" Snape asked as though Harry were the one behaving oddly.  
  
Harry shook himself and slowly walked over to his teacher as he flipped through the compendium to one of the spells. He pointed one out and Harry moved in a little closer than he felt comfortable to look at it. It was a cutting spell.   
  
"Shall we try that one?" Snape asked conversationally.   
  
Even this distance made Harry's skin prickle again. "Sure," Harry finally managed to reply.  
  
Snape took up a book from the bottom shelf behind the desk. "Outdated almanacs. We will use these." He set it up on the pillar and stepped back.  
  
"_Periporta,_" Snape said and pointed his wand. A clean, very small hole burned its way through the book. As he put his wand down, he said, now in teacher mode, "The narrower the spell, the more power you will have to cut. Start by burning just a single spot, as you need to establish focus and aim before moving on." He stepped aside. "You try it."  
  
Harry, still rattled and uncertain, stepped before the book. When he tried the spell, the book flew back from the pillar and smacked into the wall with a puff of smoke.  
  
"Narrower than that, I should think," Snape commented and with an easy flick of the wand, put the book back on the pillar.  
  
Harry repeated the spell, trying to establish focus. The best he could do was simply blast the book apart rather than knocking it off. He frowned in frustration.  
  
"It takes a bit practice, Potter. Have some patience with yourself," Snape commented evenly in a totally un-Snape-like voice.  
  
Gaping again, Harry blinked at his teacher a moment before realizing he must look stupid doing that. He rolled his shoulders a few times and tried again, tuning everything else out except his racing heart. The next book blasted apart as well.  
  
"Let's try something different. A lasso spell is equally useful, although you didn't mark it."  
  
"I know that one already," Harry explained.  
  
Snape looked him over and hovered yet another book into place. "Let's see it."  
  
With a deep, calming breath Harry cast a hover spell to lift the book, then two spell loops around the book while maintaining the hover. They had worked on this a lot in DA mostly because it had become a competition to see who could lasso the most times before dropping the object. Harry cast five more loops around the book, careful to space them evenly. The spell was becoming unstable, the almanac wavering in the air. Biting his lip, he jerked his wand back. Green light flared from the loops and the book fell and peeled into fourteen neat wedges of binding and pages. They clunked onto the pillar and floor as the triangles of paper fluttered after.  
  
Snape looked at him. "Not bad, Mr. Potter. If you can do that you can certainly manage the cutting spell. But let's move onto the fire spell you noted last."  
  
They spent the late afternoon and evening working on spells. It took over an hour of Snape keeping his distance for Harry to finally relax and concentrate fully on the impromptu lesson. Otherwise, he was in heaven. Normally he, Hermione and Neville had to figure out the spells themselves and teach the others. Seeing a spell in the book and just having it taught to him was unthinkably easy.  
  
"Too bad we didn't start this sooner," Harry said as he flipped through another book of defense spells while Snape flipped through the compendium. He turned his book towards Snape and pointed at a deafness spell.  
  
"You seem to have a penchant for less elaborate spells," Snape commented.  
  
"They are quicker to cast," Harry said.  
  
Snape paused and studied him. "We can do that one if you wish."  
  
Eventually, Snape called a halt to the session after Harry yawned for the third time in as many minutes.  
  
"It is only nine, though," Harry complained.  
  
"That means we have been at this for five hours without a break."  
  
"Oh, sorry," Harry dropped his eyes.  
  
"I do not mind teaching you, Potter. This is the job I wanted, remember? This review has certainly been useful to me--do not apologize."  
  
Harry trudged up to his room, changed, and settled into bed. He was exhausted enough to not think too much and fell asleep as soon as the covers warmed up.

* * *

**Notes** I rearranged the chapter breaks so we are still just on one version. I think restrictedsection.org is going to be it, though, after looking around at the options way too long today.   
  
To Xikum, well, I'll try to live up to this level of analysis as the story goes on.   
To Nadezhda, yes the perrenial challenge and one has to fall back as I have on leaving a bit of mystery about what is actually going on in Snape's head. He does explain much much later what he is thinking in this chapter.   
To cleopatra2070, I'm not apologizing for my geeky attempts at poetic license. To the other, it is standard American usage to not pluralize an uncountable noun when it becomes an adjective. We say "goat cheese" for example where "goat" is a class of thing or kind of thing. "Goats cheese" makes zero sense to me since the goats cannot normally be individually identified later as that implies. Or, and this is a real stretch, that somehow five different breeds of goat were involved and for some reason that is culinarily important to point out. "Goat's cheese" would make some sense at least but that isn't what's going on there even though that's what I think when I hear it rather than read it. I can easily say "the government are" and even pretend that "pavement" is something more specific than it sounds, but the plural noun adjective thing I just cannot do. If you can hang on through the few times it will come up, I think it will be worth your while, but if not, I understand.   
  
On another note, I can't find the guidelines for what is even allowed at an R rating. Anyone have good source, it would be greatly appreciated. 


	4. Beds to Lie In

Chapter 4 - Beds to Lie In  
  
Harry woke a while later, cold. A quick check of the dark room revealed that he'd forgotten to light the fire again. Tired of casting spells, he put his head back on the pillow and tried to go back to sleep anyway. His muscles, clenched from the chilly bed, wouldn't let him rest. He wished the fire were already lit and the room warm and toasty. It occurred to him that Snape's room probably already was. Goosebumps raged over him at that thought and he shivered to try to shake them off.  
  
With a huff, he sat up and turned up the bedside lamp. Slipping his glasses on, he stared at the dark maw of the hearth. Their earlier embrace and the kiss played through his mind. He wrapped his arms around himself and bent forward in dismay. That strange hunger seethed in him again and he couldn't help but remember the look Snape had given him as he ran his fingers over his face. No one had ever done that: made him believe he was more important than anything else in the world.  
  
"The hell," Harry murmured, now feeling icy cold. He slid out of bed and padded over to the door in his bare feet. It opened soundlessly as he hadn't latched it. Uncertainty held him at the threshold. He looked back at his bed and the cold grate. All he had to do was light a fire and he'd be warm. He looked into the hallway. Through the metal railing of the balcony he saw a small, light-colored figure soundlessly move from one room to another across the floor below: Esme. Harry blinked in the dim light, daunted a bit by the realization that they weren't alone. She didn't reappear as he stood waiting long minutes to see her cross the hall again.   
  
He curled his cold toes against the balls of his feet and looked back into his room again. It didn't look as inviting as he hoped it would. The empty ache in his middle compelled him down the hallway. When he reached Snape's ajar door, he was actually surprised to find himself there. With his fingertips, he pushed the door open a little farther; warm air drifted out at him.   
  
Snape's room was a mirror image of his at the front of the house, with the fireplace on the other side, on the outside wall. Harry stepped silently into the warm air, watching the flames in the well-fed hearth as he advanced into the room. He stopped beside the high bed. Snape lay sleeping, his breathing just audible over the crackle of the fire. For long minutes Harry stood there unable to find the will inside himself to return to his room. His feet complained more bitterly about being cold. Harry sat on the bed and put his feet under the edge of the covers. The sheets were amazingly soft, or his feet were numb--he could barely feel the fabric.  
  
Relaxing a little, Harry stared into the leaping flames in the grate across the room. Sleep tugged at him, which made him think he should return to his own bed, but he didn't really want to be alone again.  
  
Suddenly, Harry noticed that the sound of Snape's breathing had stopped. He jerked his head over to look at him. His teacher's eyes were open and regarding Harry piercingly. Seeing Harry's scrutiny, he shifted to prop his head on his hand. Feeling some kind of explanation was in order, Harry said, "I was a little lonely."  
  
Snape did not respond, just considered him at length with his unreadable, black eyes. Harry matched that gaze for a long while before dropping his own. He really had no excuse for being there. He sighed audibly at the conflict in him. At that, Snape's hand reached out and pulled Harry over to him by his pelvis. With a flourish, he snapped the covers up before he leaned over him.  
  
Harry's lungs refused to draw more than a shallow pant as long fingers made fast work of the buttons on his nightshirt. Snape's mouth descended on his chest and ribs, and he couldn't breath at all for several heart-pounding seconds. Harry breathed in rapid gasps as the mouth moved to his neck and warm hands grasped his sides with a ferociousness that called his own hunger to mind. He reached up and grabbed handfuls of Snape's flannel nightshirt. Warm lips again consumed his own. Harry tried to respond this time to the devouring mouth but found he could not concentrate on both the kiss and the hand caressing down his abdomen.   
  
Harry never imagined that anything could feel this good. He lay passively, afraid that any movement might bring a halt to what was happening.   
  
Eventually Snape raised himself up and slid Harry to the center of the bed where he wrapped him in his arms and fell asleep. Harry lay awake for a long time despite the warm room and the hypnotic crackle of the fire. His heart refused to slow down. What had just happened seemed too unreal to comprehend, but every time he doubted it, his situation told him otherwise. Finally, Harry's lax body pulled his mind down with it.  
  
Short hours later, searing pain brought Harry up out of deep sleep with a yelp. He yanked his hand free to press it over his fiery scar.  
  
"Potter? Harry?" Snape's voice came out of the darkness in concern.  
  
Harry's mind reeled at that, at the feel of another hot body wrapped around his own. His scar hurt more, making him whimper and nearly sob. Snape's hand ran repeatedly through his hair as though to comfort him. His scar seared again worse than before and he thrashed with a cry of animal panic against the restraint of Snape's embrace.  
  
"Harry," Snape said as he shifted and held Harry down more securely. "Clear your mind--you know how," he said calmly.  
  
With one last whimper, Harry managed to cut himself free. As he lay limply, Snape adjusted Harry against himself and stroked his back lightly. He wasn't alone, Harry realized with a jolt. This was a first. Not only wasn't he alone, but he was with someone who understood what was happening to him.   
  
"What did you feel?" Snape asked softly but with deep underlying curiosity.  
  
Harry forced his breathing to slow and let his face press against Snape's furred chest. "Anger. Disappointment. A lot of anger."  
  
"That sounds promising," Snape stated. He combed his fingers over Harry's scalp and tugged lightly on his hair. "Go back to sleep," Snape murmured hypnotically. Harry gave in and relaxed into the intimacy; it was easier to do than he would have expected. He could get used to this, he thought idly as he drifted off again.  
  
#####  
  
Early light woke Harry. He shifted to roll onto his side and discovered a heavy arm lying across his chest. With a rude snap, the memory of the previous night came back. As Harry looked over at his bedmate, Snape opened his eyes and raised his head.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry rubbed his eyes. "Good morning, sir," he replied uncertainly.  
  
Snape propped himself up on an elbow and considered Harry. "I think, Potter, that this has to be a one-time event."  
  
Staring at the ceiling now, Harry nodded. "Probably for the best." Memories from last night were making him blush, although he now deeply appreciated the phrase 'the morning after.' He sat up and rubbed his hair back.  
  
Snape slipped into and buttoned his nightshirt loosely before he rose out of bed. "Shall I make you a nice breakfast, then?" At Harry's nod, he departed.  
  
As soon as the footsteps faded from the metal stairs, Harry fell back on the pillow with a groan of disbelief. His eyes traced the decorative plasterwork on the ceiling as he sorted through conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he didn't know how he was going to behave normally when they returned, which made him panic at the thought of explaining to his friends what had happened. On the other, he'd never felt so secure while coping with his cursed scar. And then there was the abject pleasure of it. He swallowed hard at the memory of that and shook his head.  
  
As he got out of bed, the fire blazed merrily. Harry collected his clothes from his room and took them down to the bath to clean up and change. As he emerged from the bath, Snape caught him outside the kitchen archway.   
  
"Good, you are dressed. We are returning as soon as we have eaten," Snape said. Harry froze at that thought. "Come, Potter." He urged Harry into the kitchen and over to the servant's table where he sat stunned as food was piled onto his plate. "Hopefully bacon holds a different association for you now," Snape said levelly.  
  
Harry blinked at the mound on his plate. "Yeah, I guess it does." Then he blushed as he picked up his fork.  
  
Snape settled in across from him. "You will need the energy--we have to repeat that walk in reverse, and it is cold this morning."  
  
After dressing Harry more warmly in spare outerwear, they departed. Grateful for the chance to think on the walk, Harry trudged behind, deeply lost in his own thoughts. He was worried about too many things and they all circled in his mind, taking turns in gnawing away at him.  
  
"Sir?" Harry said after about twenty minutes. When Snape stopped and turned, he asked, "Did the message say anything about what happened?" His professor stiffened, worrying him further.  
  
"Only in gross overview," Snape replied. Harry gave him a strained look of question. Last night's snowfall fell in clumps from the tree branches around them, pattering into the white blanket covering the ground. "The battle for Hogsmeade went on for over a day. Cleanup of the remaining curses required another two days. The Order . . . lost a few members."  
  
Harry's mouth had fallen open during this recitation. He snapped it closed at the end of it. "Who?" In his mind flitted images of everyone he knew from the Order: Lupin, McGonagall, Tonks, Moody . . . He couldn't find the will in himself to bear losing any of them.  
  
Snape sighed and with a pained expression, said, "West Craven, Nymphadora Tonks-"  
  
"No," Harry murmured.  
  
" . . . and Bill Weasley," Snape finished gravely.  
  
Chest constricted, Harry took a step back from his teacher. "No," he moaned again. He couldn't balance and he leaned on a stout tree so he wouldn't have to stumble farther.  
  
"Come, Potter. The headmaster wants you back at the school as soon as possible." He started walking away.   
  
Faced with being left alone, Harry followed quickly after, thoughts and emotions reeling. Thinking of Ron as they walked made Harry feel a new emotion: guilt. He'd been having fun while his friend was grieving. These new thoughts and emotions circled viciously in his mind until they reached the edge of the apparation protection and then after a _pop!_, the portkey.   
  
Snape lifted the snow-covered metal ball out of the tree and brushed the ice from it. He stepped over to where Harry stared blindly at one particularly twisted tree and held out the ball. "Are you ready to go?" his teacher asked with unusual gentleness.  
  
Snape's sympathy weakened Harry and he had to pull off his glasses and put his bare eyes to his icy, damp coat sleeve for a long moment. The weight felt twice as heavy now, crushing him. He forced himself to breath deeply and suppressed everything inside himself before slipping his glasses back on and nodding. Snape held the portkey between them and waited for him to touch it. Harry finally reached out because there was nothing else to do and no place else to go. As he put his fingers on the cold metal, he wondered what it would be like to have real choices in one's life.   
  
"Three, Two, One," the countdown went and with a familiar jerk they were back beside Zonko's joke shop. Harry was relieved to see the familiar grey pealing paint. The building behind them, however, had the corner blasted away and the scent of wet firewood wafted from its burned-out core. Beside him, Snape pulled his deep cloak hood over his head and started off. "Quickly, Potter," he admonished.   
  
Harry looked up and down the street as they headed out of town. Some buildings were just plain missing. A few witches and wizards inspected buildings; one piled scrolls and other valuables amongst the rubble of an office into a wooden box. He walked faster to catch up with his professor. The train station was intact and that was the last of town before the gate which also looked untouched. The snowy path between the castle and the gate was trodden with only a few tracks.  
  
As they approached the main doors, Harry looked up and saw something that eased his mind: Dumbledore. The old wizard stepped down to greet them. "Harry," he said with affection, "it is very good to see you."  
  
Harry quickly Occluded his mind, remembering with a flush that there were things he didn't want the headmaster to find out. He managed a somber greeting in return. Inside the entrance hall, Dumbledore steered him to the Great Hall. "We are just having lunch. Why don't you join us before settling in. Everyone would like to see you." He then leaned close. "No one is to know where you were, Harry," he said quietly.  
  
Harry nodded; that was fine with him. As they entered, the teachers and a few Order members looked up sharply as though they were still on edge. McGonagall actually stood up when Harry came abreast of the end of the Hufflepuff table where everyone was sitting. "Good to see you, Mr. Potter," she said and patted him on the shoulder. "Sit here." She indicated the place between her and Moody. Harry stepped over the bench as a plate full of food was conjured for him by his Head of House.  
  
"Thank you, Ma-am," Harry acknowledged. As he ate, he intentionally didn't look up to see where Snape ended up sitting.  
  
When he pushed his plate back, surprised by how hungry he had gotten on the walk, Moody broke into his thoughts. "Well boy, looks like you are none the worse for wear."  
  
"Yes, sir." Harry shrugged. "Nothing happened to me," he said with feeling and then grabbed his pumpkin juice to mask his reaction to his own statement. He had meant it with regard to the battle and felt a flush coming on as he rethought it. After a long moment he risked a glance up and down the table. He found Snape across the table, on the left, beyond Hagrid. The Potions master gave him a level look that flickered to knowing with a twitch of an eyebrow. Harry looked down quickly as a swirl of unusual emotion made his skin feel alien and his heart beat erratically. Great Merlin, how was he going to manage like this? Especially class.  
  
Harry followed McGonagall out of the hall. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" he asked her.  
  
"I believe they are at the Burrow. Tomorrow is Bill Weasley's funeral."  
  
He frowned sadly. "Is there any way I can go?" he asked, as he kept beside her on the stairs.  
  
"No, Mr. Potter, there isn't--it isn't safe for you. Only myself and Alastor are leaving the school for it. The castle spells are being reinforced and Hogsmeade is being reconstructed, so we have very little time. As well, there is a fear that too many Order members may attract another attack, and we do not want that." At Harry's down look, she stopped and said, "Ron will be back tomorrow evening, Molly and Arthur feel he is safer here."  
  
"What about Ginny?" Harry asked, thinking that McGonagall's slip was just an oversight.  
  
His teacher's expression grew pained. "She is in St. Mungo's, Potter, injured in a fight with Lestrange."  
  
Harry exhaled. At least it had not been Ron's warm-up that had injured her.   
  
McGonagall went on. "Go on up to your dormitory and rest. Students will begin returning tomorrow and you may not get much of a chance after that."  
  
She strode off. Harry watched her silhouette as it got lost in the light from the far windows before she turned the corner. Very slowly, he made his way to the house tower.  
  
######  
  
Harry waited in the entrance hall for his friends to return. Many students mingled around him, many asked him what he knew of what happened. Harry told them he had been portkeyed away and hadn't seen much. He told them he had been sent to a remote cabin on the Scottish shore. Every time the door opened, he stood on tiptoe to see who came in and to peer down the white lawn and look for Ron's red head. He really wanted to see his friends, wanted to see for himself that they were all right.  
  
Finally they arrived, arms locked. Hermione seemed to be holding Ron up. "Harry!" she said in greeting. Ron lifted his bloodshot eyes to Harry and almost eeked out a smile.   
  
Harry hugged him and found some kind of words pouring forth, something about how sad he was for his friend and his family. He hadn't figured out at all what to say while he waited. He didn't think Ron really heard him anyway.  
  
"Thanks mate," Ron said thickly as they separated.  
  
"Let me take your bag," Harry said, hoisting Ron's bookbag from his shoulder. His own eyes were burning just from looking at his friend.  
  
They sat in the common room for the rest of the evening, books open but with no real studying going on. Hermione ran down to the kitchen for trays since Ron didn't want to go to the hall for dinner. This was a first for Ron, and it made Harry's heart twist.  
  
"Where did you go?" Ron asked him. Harry thought he heard a hint of accusation. "I looked up and you were gone."  
  
"Dumbledore forced me to portkey away," Harry said. "I was really pissed off about it," he added angrily, desperate for his friend not to blame him.   
  
Ron didn't respond, just stared down at his hands with a sad expression. "Ginny isn't doing well," Ron said with the attitude of someone unburdening themselves. "Hermione doesn't know that. Don't tell her."  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked quietly, afraid of the answer.  
  
"Lestrange came into town the other way, from the station. She hit me with a blasting curse that sent me through the wall of Flourish and Blots. Through the wall. Have you ever gone through a wall?" When Harry shook his head with a sympathetic look, Ron went on. "Ginny jumped in and started firing spells at Lestrange which caught the bitch off guard but she got a countering block up and then hit Ginny with two hard spells in a row. I don't know what they were. Lestrange ran into the street then. I crawled over to Ginny, but I couldn't wake her up, she was barely breathing. I sent up a flare for the mediwizards, like they do in the stories about the Giant Wars. After a while, they came and took her away. Said the snow had cooled her down which was good since it had been too long." Ron lost control at the end, and put his face in his hands.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Ron. I wanted to stay and fight. I yelled-" he stopped himself. "I didn't know how to reset the portkey to come back," he recovered.  
  
"That's okay, Harry. Just as well, it was you they were after anyway."  
  
The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up. In a low voice, he said, "What?"  
  
Ron sniffled. "I overheard Moody talking to Lupin. Dumbledore has been telling the _Prophet_ that the raid was to get him, but it's a lie--Voldemort was after you. I'm glad you got away, Harry."  
  
Harry's vision tunneled in. Hermione, who had just arrived, said, "Harry? Food. Harry?" she shook him. "Ron, how long has he been like this?"  
  
"I'm all right," Harry insisted in a monotone, finally remembering to breath. "Is this my tray?" he asked as a distraction.

* * *

This has yet to be posted elsewhere, currently waiting for an account at skyhawke.


	5. Striving for Normalcy

Chapter 5 - Striving for Normalcy  
  
Classes restarted on time, even though a quarter of the students still had not returned. The general consensus was that some number were not going to be sent back by their parents despite the _Prophet's_ long article about Hogwart's extensive spell protection.  
  
Harry dreaded Potions with a kind of trepidation he was completely unaccustomed to. While eating in the Great Hall, he steadfastly ignored the staff table. He could not do the same in the tiny Potions classroom. At the same time in utter contrast, he wanted to see Snape, just look at him, nothing more. He wanted to figure things out and he couldn't seem to do that just thinking on his own. Despite all of the distractions, he couldn't keep his thoughts from straying into memory or even worse, fantasy.  
  
Ron trudged off to the dormitory from breakfast as Harry and Hermione headed down to Potions. Harry rechecked his bag to make sure he had a sharp quill and plenty of blank parchment. "All set, Harry?" Hermione asked him.  
  
"Yep," he replied, trying very hard to sound casual.  
  
"You read the chapter last night?" she asked, trying to calm him down.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"You are acting like we are having a test or something," she commented as they started down the steps to the dungeon.  
  
"No, I'm not," Harry retorted, then mentally admonished himself. "Everything has me a little on edge."  
  
"Join the club," she breathed.  
  
They entered the classroom and sat down at their usual bench. Malfoy and Nott followed them with their narrowed eyes as they did so. "Boy, I wish those two would let up," Harry whispered as he set out his things.  
  
Snape strode in, letting the door slam behind him. Harry breathed in slowly, deeply. Snape's cloak billowed out behind him as he turned at the front of the classroom and gave the students a quick, piercing once-over. His eyes rested just an extra second on Harry's before moving on. "We are going to cover the Fire Draught today. It is not too difficult of a potion. The headmaster insisted upon an easy first week back after the . . . incident we had nearby. Suffice to say you should not relax too much, I will most certainly make up for it in subsequent weeks."  
  
Harry heard the obnoxious tone with a new ear. Sixth Years weren't as cowed but they still sat with complete attention for fear of being singled out. Everyone except Malfoy, who looked as though he hung on every word as though it were honey. Rather than being sickened by it as expected, Harry found himself suspicious of it.  
  
"So, who can tell me what the three forms of Rubin's Core are?" Snape asked. He looked at Hermione as she raised her hand, and said, "Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Uh, cubic, rhomboid . . ." Harry cringed. "I don't remember the other." Snape shot him a disapproving look which hit him harder than Harry would have imagined. Normally, Harry just shook those off as basic viciousness, realizing that wasn't the case left him unsettled.  
  
"Ms. Granger?"  
  
"Dodecahedron."  
  
"Yes," Snape said to her as he gave Harry another look, this one less readable. It made something inside of Harry burn in self-anger.  
  
When it came time to brew, Harry put every ounce of concentration into the task. It really was an easy potion, and Harry finished just after Hermione. He bottled some and took it to the front of the classroom. He decided to stop with the self-recrimination; he'd been studying while attempting to keep Ron from falling completely apart. Too bad if he didn't memorize the chapter. He was about to set his potion on the desk when he realized Snape had his hand out for it. Giving his professor an even look, Harry handed it over. Their fingers brushed as he did so, sending ripples of electricity over the skin of Harry's abdomen. He wondered at that. It was as though his body were more aware than he was of the world.  
  
Snape held the bottle to the light from the high windows then set it down with a look that Harry read as, at least you managed that. Harry gave him a mild glare in return and left with his friends. In the corridor he let out a long breath of relief.  
  
"Glad your potion worked out?" Neville asked him. Harry nodded emphatically.  
  
They walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts. Alastor Moody clunked across the front of the classroom, pacing it looked like. Everyone settled into their seats and whispered about the recent Battle of Hogsmeade. Ron sat with his now normal dazed expression, holding his wand between his knees, hunched forward too far. Harry and Hermione sent looks of concern at each other.  
  
Behind Harry, Seamus was saying to Dean, "My parents insisted I come back--they don't want it to look like You-Know-Who can push them around. That is a bit of a switch for them, I thought I was going to have to get a tutor or something. I don't know if they'd have felt that way if they had actually seen Hogsmeade. Gave me the heebies when the train pulled up."  
  
"Quiet down now," Moody said when the seats were filled. "I've been thinking about what I originally set out to teach you and I want to make some changes. We are going to do more counter-curses than I originally planned." His magical eye crawled over them all. "Potter," he snapped. "Come up here," he commanded more gently.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and picked up his wand from the desk and stepped up to the front of the room.  
  
"I hear you missed all of the excitement." His eye roved over Harry.  
  
"Yes, sir," he answered, trying not to flush.  
  
"Happy 'bout that?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
Moody chuckled. "Glad to hear it. Help me demonstrate a binding counter-curse. Step back and hit me with a binding charm."  
  
Harry pointed his wand and cast the spell at his teacher. Moody said, "_Shrugriggus_," and the bindings broke and flew from him and disappeared.  
  
"Give me something else, best you have."  
  
Biting his lip, Harry thought a moment and then said, "Are you sure, sir?"  
  
Moody lowered his wand and gave Harry a look. "Anything short of an Avada Kedavra, Potter. Unless you'd care to show me how to counter that."  
  
Harry frowned, his brow furrowing. "I would if I could, sir," he said.  
  
"Anything else you have, then."  
  
Harry pointed his wand and shouted, "_Securflamen!_" It was a variation on the blasting curse that had a narrow wraparound strike like an invisible hatchet that foiled the normal block. Snape had taught it to him.  
  
Moody threw up his wand and cast a block, then quickly pointed his wand behind himself to pull the block around. He almost lost his feet and took a few steps forward to catch his balance. "Not bad, Potter. Where did you learn that?"  
  
Harry froze. "I've been studying hard, sir." At Moody's doubtful expression, Harry glanced at his friends, thinking quickly. "For our Defense Association Club, Hermione, Neville, and I have to figure out the spells on our own most of the time. I'm used to doing that, sir."  
  
Still looking doubtful and now even a little suspicious, Moody gestured for Harry to sit down. "Longbottom, come up here."  
  
Harry sat down and tried to look innocent as he could see that even as Moody talked to Neville, his magical eye stayed on Harry. Clearly, he was going to have to be much more careful. Just Occluding his mind during meals when Dumbledore was present was not going to be enough.  
  
When class ended, Harry sensed that Moody wasn't happy with him. "I'll catch up to you," he said to his friends and remained behind until the room emptied of students. Hefting his bag, he stepped to the front of the room. His teacher looked up from his notes. "I'm trying to follow the headmaster's instructions, sir," Harry explained. "I don't know who knows what. Or is supposed to."  
  
"There is more to it than that, Potter. I can sense it."  
  
A tingle ran over Harry's whole body. "Yes sir, there is. But it isn't relevant."  
  
"You're sure about that?" Moody asked him. At Harry's nod, he said with a dismissive wave, "Get going then."  
  
As he walked to lunch alone, Harry wondered what Moody had seen. Thinking the worst made him panic inside; he had no idea what the consequences would be if anyone found out. Constant vigilance, Harry reminded himself with an ironic shake of his head. With that, he Occluded his mind and stepped into the Great Hall.  
  
######  
  
Four days later, Potions came around again. It was clear from the first moment Harry stepped into the room, that something bad was going on. Snape strode in and let the door slam as usual, but it sounded much louder, startling everyone. Malfoy and Nott gave Harry such identical malicious grins, that he gaped at them for over ten seconds, until Hermione nudged him to get out his parchment and quill.  
  
Harry pulled his gaze from the Slytherins and glanced up at the teacher. Snape's narrow-eyed, angry gaze took in the room. In staccato, vicious speech, he said, "For the next three classes we are going to cover anti-venoms for spider and snake bites." He stopped and set his copy of the potions textbook on the front bench. It slammed down much harder than usual.  
  
Harry's heart rate ratcheted up. Shit, he thought, Dumbledore found out. Barely able to listen to take notes, he waited with trepidation for Snape's slitted-eye gaze to fall on him. Snape's gaze rested on the Slytherin's again with the same heat he was showing to the rest of the room, a real measure of his anger. Even though one part of Harry's mind insisted that he could avoid the inevitable wrath by bending over his note-taking, he couldn't look away from his teacher. Actively fearful now, Harry kept his eyes up as much as possible while still jotting down a few facts.  
  
When Snape's gaze finally rested on his, Harry grew more confused. The dark eyes held only something that looked like sad sympathy. Bending over his notes, then, to hide his consternation, Harry wondered if Snape thought Harry would be punished as well, then he really felt panic raging. His handwriting really began to suffer as he wrote fast to try to catch up with the lecture.  
  
The lecture ended and in complete, careful silence, the class collected their ingredients and started brewing. Harry concentrated hard on the task at hand to distract himself from his squirming stomach. He wished his hands would stop shaking.  
  
"Careful, Harry, Rose's Syrup is so alkaline, it's caustic," Hermione said to him as he tried to put just two drops in his cauldron. Finally, he managed and set the jar down on the table between them with relief. As he reached for the stopper to cover it, a faint breeze lifted his hair. He reacted fast only because he was already on edge. Harry pulled his cloak over his head as he threw himself at Hermione. The crackle of a spell struck them as did the shards of the jar and its contents. Harry gasped in pain as his back burned fiercely. Hermione struggled to her feet, lifting Harry to his knees. He arched to try to keep his clothing off his skin.  
  
Snape was there then. "Ms. Granger, get the neutralizer from the kit behind you." He unhooked Harry's smoldering cloak and dropped it to the floor. Harry got only a quick glance of Snape's concerned eyes as Hermione opened the large, white jar. Snape unceremoniously pulled Harry's head down and poured the milky liquid over the back of his holy, smoking shirt. Snape stood then. "Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Granger, take Potter to the hospital wing. Do not dally, come immediately back here."  
  
His friends lifted Harry to his feet from either side and walked him out. In the corridor, Neville said, "Must have been Malfoy."  
  
"I didn't see it," Harry said.  
  
"Snape is in a bad mood," Hermione commented.  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed.  
  
In the hospital wing, they sat Harry on the end of the first bed. Pomfrey came bustling out of her office. "Potter?" she asked in surprise.  
  
"You better go," Harry whispered to his friends. They nodded and with winces of sympathy, departed.  
  
Pomfrey came over and looked him over glancingly. "What happened?"  
  
"Rose's Syrup," Harry said.  
  
"Ah," the Healing Witch said, distracted. "Potter, wait here, I have to check on something." She stepped quickly out the door, leaving him alone.  
  
Harry was grateful now for his soaked shirt, the cool liquid made his back feel less than agonizing. Tapping his finger on the metal foot of the bed, Harry mulled Pomfrey's behavior over in his mind.  
  
An owl flew past the window across from him. Harry wished he had checked the time when he had come in, it seemed like Pomfrey had been gone for quite a while. He stood up and went to the door to the wing and looked out and listened. The pain had eased a little--two large spots on his back throbbed now which was better than earlier when the whole thing felt on fire. He stepped out into the corridor and walked slowly along. He wondered where she could have gone.  
  
The sound of many feet hitting the floor all at once back inside the hospital wing, made Harry jump. Many voices all started talking at once as well as things moving around and the scuffling of feet. Curious, Harry cracked open the door and peeked in. Many wizards had appeared, most he didn't recognize, but some he recognized from the Order. The injured were being helped onto beds. Harry searched the side of the room he could see for familiar faces.  
  
"Don't bother," a deep voice Harry didn't know said, making Harry jump back. Just as the door swung closed, he saw a wizard and witch set Mundungus's very dead looking body onto the floor beside the last bed. Breathing heavily, heart pumping, Harry backed up until he bumped into the window behind him. He recovered himself and started with purpose back to the main part of the castle. Without much thought, he went up to his dormitory and got out his old uniform cloak and a fresh shirt. He changed quickly and headed back down to the dungeon.  
  
His burned back felt strangely good now, it gave him a focus of purpose that made it much easier to breathe. Completely Occluded, Harry stepped back into the Potions classroom. He dropped his gaze when Snape looked up at him and went back to his bench and returned to brewing.  
  
"All right, Harry?" Neville asked.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," he replied evenly.  
  
At the end of class, as he put his books away, Harry slowed to listen to Malfoy , who was beside Snape's desk. "Professor, I think I need some extra help on the anti-venom section of the text." Harry shot a glance to the front of the room. Malfoy was awfully close to Snape, leaning over him to point something out in the text. The Slytherin boy looked up at Harry at that moment with a sadistic grin. Harry just glanced away and finished packing his bag and departed behind his friends.  
  
Harry made it through the rest of the day in his uncomfortable state. He felt calm and in control because of the pain, rather than despite it.  
  
That evening, though, it grew worse and he begged off climbing up to the dormitory with the excuse that he had an essay to finish. He pulled out his Potions text and tried to read a chapter ahead while he hunched his back to keep his shirt from pressing too hard against his burns. Either the pain had changed or he had; it now made him feel lightheaded rather than focused. He would have to go down to the dispensary before breakfast. Things should be calm by then.  
  
The portrait hole opened. Harry looked up as the headmaster stepped in. Dumbledore looked Harry over with his startling blue eyes. He folded his hands before himself and said, "Madame Pomfrey just informed me that you left her care earlier today, without treatment."  
  
Harry sighed loudly. "It got a little busy in the hospital wing," he explained quietly.  
  
"Don't do that again, Harry," Dumbledore admonished him, making Harry drop his gaze. "Let me see what happened to you."  
  
Harry unbuttoned his shirt and very carefully peeled it off his back. Two of Dumbledore's fingers on his shoulder urged him to lean forward. "That looks very painful, my boy," the old wizard said.  
  
"It was manageable," Harry insisted. He didn't want to have to explain about how much better it made him feel.  
  
Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped it on each of Harry's shoulders. The pain disappeared. Harry reached around to where the worst spot had been; his skin was smooth and new there now. "Thank you, sir," Harry said and lifted his head to meet the other's eyes.  
  
In that unguarded moment, Dumbledore read him. Harry blinked rapidly--it had happened too fast to stop it. He swallowed hard and stood up as the headmaster gave him a surprised look that shifted to a tilted head one more predatorial. Harry's panic from earlier tried to return but he tossed it away from himself and gazed levelly at the headmaster. Defiance rose in Harry, relaxing him. Casually, he balled his shirt up and said, "I thought you already knew."  
  
With measured speech, Dumbledore continued to study him closely as he asked, "Why did you think that?"  
  
"Because Professor Snape was really annoyed and angry in class today. He was even short with the students from his house, which he never is."  
  
Dumbledore's chin rose at that, as though it meant something to him. "Was he?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, then waited for some kind of verdict on his other revelation.  
  
"Hm," Dumbledore muttered and took a deep breath. "Do try to behave yourself, Harry," he said and turned to walk out.  
  
Stunned, Harry watched him bend low to get through the portrait hole. When he was alone a kind of trembling, giddy relief washed through him. He collected his things and went up to bed.  
  
#####  
  
Severus Snape sat in the old armchair beside the fire in his suite. The heat from the hearth was both relief and torment. The flames flashed red once and he reached quickly for his wand. He tapped it on the mantle and Dumbledore's face appeared in the flames. "My office, Severus. Now," the floating head stated, then vanished.  
  
Snape renewed the block on the fireplace before tucking his wand away and slipping on his shoes. As he strode through the long corridors and up the staircases to the seventh floor, he thought about how unusual it was to be summoned so late; it was after two in the morning.  
  
Dumbledore invited him in the instant he used the knocker on the office door. Snape stepped in and stood before the headmaster's desk. He managed a calm questioning attitude with some effort.  
  
"Did you know the boy returned to your class untreated?"  
  
Surprised, Snape stiffened. "No. I did not," he replied in a hard tone. "I would not have let that pass."  
  
Dumbledore stood up slowly and came around the desk. "You have not reported to me on last night's summoning," he commented.  
  
"You were rather occupied today."  
  
The old wizard's gaze roved over his professor once. They stared at each other several moments in a small battle of wills. "The thing you are Occluding from me, I found out from the boy." With a grimace, Snape dropped his head and Dumbledore went on, "So there is no reason to continue to hide from me, although I am _very_ disappointed in you."  
  
Snape stared at the orange rug covering the center of the stone floor as another silence ensued.  
  
"Why were you punished?" Dumbledore finally asked after another pause. He stepped closer until he was right beside Snape. "Kneel down, Severus," he commanded.  
  
Startled, Snape obeyed. As he went down on one knee, he realized with bemusement how close to collapse he was. He swayed as he shifted to both knees.  
  
Dumbledore's hand rested on his shoulder to stabilize him. "Unbutton your collar."  
  
Snape did so. "You do not wish to leave me like this? To punish me."  
  
Warm, age roughened fingers slipped inside the collar of Snape's shrift. From both sides, they traced the muscles around to his spine. A sudden wave of relief washed through him making him gasp.  
  
"Severus, I would no more leave you like this than I would cause you to be in this state," Dumbledore stated kindly. His fingers traced back the other way and he pressed his thumbs in below Snape's collarbone. Another, even starker, release from pain made Snape whimper.  
  
"Severus, why were you punished so?" the headmaster asked again, this time sounding less curious and more concerned.  
  
Snape swayed again, the last of his strength draining away with the pain. Dumbledore's index finger ran lightly down his upper spine sending more healing through him and Snape had to rest the top of his head against the old wizard to keep from falling over. "The Dark Lord found out I took Potter to safety," he finally admitted.  
  
Dumbledore grasped Snape's shoulders and pushed him upright. "I am surprised he didn't simply have you killed. Or eventually have you killed, after more of the Crucio."  
  
Snape shook his head. "I thought of an out and I took it." He stretched his shoulders back, amazed to feel no agony rippling through him. He spent a moment of getting accustomed to the lack of pain. "May I stand?" he whispered.  
  
"Of course," Dumbledore said congenially.  
  
As Snape started to his feet, he commented, "You are much more skilled at that then I remember."  
  
Dumbledore reached out a hand to help the other up. "I have been working on it rather diligently. I don't want what happened to the Longbottoms to happen again."  
  
Snape nodded. Now that the pain was gone, all he wanted to do was sleep. He stood limply, waiting for his fate.  
  
"I do need to think of a proper rapprochement for your behavior, though you do not seem to have harmed the boy, which I find amazing." Dumbledore stepped back around his desk as he said this. "First, tell me how you survived."  
  
Snape breathed deeply a few times as he prepared his response. "I told the Dark Lord that I rescued Potter for personal reasons." He closed his eyes a long moment, exhaustion pulling tenaciously at him. "Fortunately, I had the memories to back that up, because he insisted I prove my assertion. He told me I could keep Potter; that he would leave him be for the time being, if I assured him I had him under my control."  
  
Dumbledore digested that. "You managed to arrange protection for him," he stated, stunned.  
  
"In a sense," Snape responded tiredly  
  
Dumbledore stroked his long beard in thought. "I must admit, I would not have thought of this particular means. But it eases my heart considerably."  
  
"You have some plans for him, I sense."  
  
"Best that you not know."  
  
Snape put his hand on the desk to steady himself. "That is what I told Potter when the topic came up." He thought a moment. "He seems at times to be . . . crushing under some burden, unable to breath even."  
  
Dumbledore turned away suddenly at that. As he stared at the apparently sleeping portrait on the wall nearby, he said, "I would prefer that this . . . relationship . . . end. But I am far more interested in the boy's protection."  
  
Snape blinked at the headmaster in complete surprise.  
  
Dumbledore went on. "Make certain Harry understands so that he behaves properly around Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott."  
  
"I'll do that," Snape managed slowly.  
  
"Go get some rest, Severus," Dumbledore said, sounding like he needed the same advice.  
  
Snape went to the door and turned back as he grasped the handle. "Thank you, Albus, for the healing."  
  
"Severus, there is no need to suffer. Something Mr. Potter also needs to learn."

* * *

Notes: Okay, I'm not dead, just overwhelmed by the real world. Sigh.


	6. Lifting Angel

Chapter 6 - Lifting Angel  
  
Malfoy bumped hard into Harry in the corridor the next day as they walked from dinner back to the tower. Harry pulled his wand out, making Malfoy back up mockingly. "You wouldn't dare, Potter," he scoffed.  
  
"Thinking of casting a spell between classes, Mr. Potter?" Snape's loud voice echoed along the stone walls.  
  
Harry lowered his wand as Hermione and Ron flanked him. He gave Snape a dark look and hoped it was convincing. Passing students slowed to see what was happening. Snape grabbed the front of Harry's robe and pulled him aside and gave the other loitering students a sharp look; Malfoy, he waved on specifically. In a low voice he said to Harry, "You returned to my class untreated yesterday." Dropping his eyes, Harry frowned. "Mr. Weasley, you are about to get a ten point deduction from Gryffindor. Back off," Snape threatened.  
  
Harry spun and shot Ron a look, only partially because he was worried about the points. He _really_ didn't want his friends to hear anything. Ron gave their professor a dangerous look and backed away to where Hermione stood near the next window down the hall.  
  
"Do you have an explanation, Mr. Potter?" Snape sounded angry, but in the way Mrs. Weasley always was when her kids did something dangerous.  
  
"I went to the dispensary but Pomfrey left suddenly and after a while I went to look for her and a bunch of people appeared in the hospital wing and when I opened the door they were dumping Mundungus' body on the floor and . . ." He took a hard breath. "I didn't feel so injured anymore."  
  
Snape spun him around suddenly. Surprised, Harry grabbed for the hand on his robe before he realized that his professor didn't want Ron and Hermione to see his face. It had gone a little odd in that instant. "You should have told someone--even myself after class. I would have thought you would trust me."  
  
"It wasn't that," Harry explained. His eyes darted over to his friends who had been inching forward.  
  
Snape spun on them and they backed off again. "On another topic," his professor said in a low voice. "You are confusing Mr. Malfoy by not behaving jealously enough."  
  
"What!?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. His face flushed darkly at the implication of that.  
  
Snape grabbed his robes up harder. "A longer talk is in order, but not at the moment." He released him and stalked off with a last meaningless admonishment about between-class magic.  
  
Harry, angry for real, growled and walked the other way. His friends followed with sympathetic comments about Snape's unfairness.  
  
"Malfoy is his favorite, face it," Hermione said as they reached the Fat Lady. "They have gotten pretty chummy."  
  
"I'd like to change that," Harry said.  
  
"Why?" Ron asked, horrified at the notion of any involvement.  
  
"Just to make trouble," Harry explained. "Hermione, do you have some time tonight? I want to know the answer to any question Snape might ask in class tomorrow."  
  
"I can make time to help you study for Potions, Harry."  
  
"Ugh," Ron breathed. "Maybe I'll go to the library instead."  
  
"Good idea, Ron!" Hermione said brightly.  
  
They studied hard that night, until Harry's eyes blurred and he simply could not read anymore. Often when he asked Hermione to explain something in the text, she made him read a chapter of the fourth or fifth year textbook. This was frustrating, but at the same time he was amazed at how much more he understood the older texts than he did the first time. Hermione also insisted he read from two other supplemental Potions books she had ordered by owl post for her own studies.  
  
At breakfast Harry blushed several times as he imagined the gazes of both the Potions professor and the headmaster on him as he ate. Neither one probably paid him the least attention, but he didn't dare glance at the head table to find out for certain. Harry ate a large breakfast. After their marathon study session, he had slept like a rock and felt good this morning.  
  
Girded as though for battle, Harry entered the Potions classroom. Malfoy and Nott still wore oddly sickening, grinning expressions. Remembering what Snape had said, Harry gave them a haughty look in return which diminished their smiles quite a bit.  
  
"What is up with them?" Hermione asked Harry.  
  
"Who knows?" Harry responded.  
  
Snape entered, clearly back to his old self, and dove right into the lecture. "Today's anti-venom is a variation on a ginseng elixir. Who can tell me what three forms root-based elixirs take?" Snape's dark eyes darted around the room. Hermione didn't raise her hand, she nudged Harry to raise his instead. Seeing this, the professor said with a hint of sarcasm, "Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry spared a moment to give his friend a dark look. "There are five forms, sir," Harry said in a plodding voice. "Sugar crystalized, alcohol isolated, heat activated, vapor concentrated, and fermented." Harry and the professor shared a long look.  
  
"Correct, Mr. Potter."  
  
"You said three," Malfoy complained.  
  
"Your textbook only lists the three most common," Snape commented and waved at the blackboard. The day's potion instructions appeared there. "Mr. Potter has apparently been studying beyond the assigned text, as amazing as that notion is."  
  
Harry waited for Snape to look his way just so he could roll his eyes and be certain the other saw it. Hermione gave Harry a proud look which made him feel better than anything.  
  
At the end of class, Malfoy moved in close to Snape's desk again, Harry urged Hermione to go on without him. "I have to ask Snape something."  
  
"What?" she asked him.  
  
"Something not related to Potions. It's complicated to explain."  
  
Hermione shrugged and shouldered her bag before leaving. Harry put his things in his bag and left it on their bench. He wasn't up to this, but felt obliged to give it a try. He stepped over to where Malfoy stood with his body pressed against Snape's chair.  
  
Harry found his voice. "Need more help, Malfoy? Potions isn't a required class, you know. If you are that slow maybe you should drop."  
  
The blonde boy stepped over between Harry and the professor's desk. "You get one question right and now you think you know it all?" Malfoy taunted him in return.  
  
Harry stood with a casual posture, one hand propped on the last bench. "I just find it amazing that I studied hard one night and now I know more than you."  
  
Malfoy grabbed Harry by the front of his robes but stopped when Snape's voice rang out. "That is enough. Mr. Potter, you have class, do you not?"  
  
"Yes," Harry admitted. With a grudging attitude he picked up his bag and departed with one last intentionally furious look at Malfoy.  
  
As he walked slowly to Transfiguration, Harry could feel the reality behind the act he had just put on. He certainly didn't like Malfoy getting that close to Snape. Didn't like the blonde boy's sweet looks or his automatic better treatment. His slow pace as he mulled all this over meant he just made it to class on time. Hermione gave him a strong look as he sat down. McGonagall also marked Harry's entrance with a stern attitude. If they only knew, Harry thought.  
  
#####  
  
During his next classes, Harry thought about how he could intentionally get detention with Snape. The very notion of deciding to twist the rules so blatantly made him quiver in his stomach with nerves. He decided that the next opportunity to push the bounds of the rules, he would do it, and make sure to enjoy every moment of it.  
  
The next opportunity came during the next Potions class. Nott, at Malfoy's urging, threw another spell at a dangerous bottle of something, this time at Justin's bench. The bottle didn't break until it hit the floor. Snape gave Justin and Callo a talking to about being careful with the supplies which made Harry livid to watch.  
  
Harry raised his hand. Snape didn't come over, just put his hands on his hips and said, "Yes, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Sir, why do you let the Slytherins get away with everything?" Harry asked. Snape looked surprised by the question. Harry dove into the space left by the silence. The entire class had stopped to listen. "McGonagall is much fairer; she gives Gryffindors deductions and detentions when they deserve it. You let Malfoy, especially, get away with anything--even throwing dangerous potions around the classroom."  
  
Hermione tugged silently on Harry's sleeve. Snape crossed his arms and glared at him.  
  
"Why doesn't Nott deserve detention for what he just did?" Harry asked. He had messed this up, he realized--he really was pissing Snape off, not just lining himself up for punishment.  
  
"You are so out of line, Mr. Potter." Snape stated calmly. "Anything else you would like to add while you have the opportunity--the hole you are in can get deeper."  
  
Harry glanced at Malfoy, whose expression of glee had turned to concern. He would not want Harry to get detention once he had thought about it. "I think you should help the students who aren't in your house as much as you help the Slytherins."  
  
Snape narrowed his eyes. "You believe I don't."  
  
Feeling trapped now, Harry said. "I believe you intimidate them instead."  
  
The entire class watched this exchange, wide-eyed, as though at a tennis match. Harry now wished he hadn't opened his mouth.  
  
"Has it ever occurred to you, Potter, that Slytherins simply may not be as easily intimidated?"  
  
Harry's brow furrowed--he had not thought of that. Malfoy gave Harry a superior look. Snape stepped a row closer. "This class is not required, Mr. Potter, as you are well aware. You do not have to take it if you do not like it."  
  
"Yes I do, sir. It is required for the program I want to take after Hogwarts." Should I live that long, Harry thought wryly.  
  
Snape gave him his best doubtful look. "Should we even dare ask what that might be." He stepped over to directly across from their bench. "Let's see, something that would feed a hero complex." Snape pretended to look thoughtful.  
  
Harry blinked at him, his heart picking up as he realized they were having a fight--right in the middle of Potions. And he, the idiot, had started it. He thought about pointing out that every non-Slytherin in this class was only there because they had to be, but he feared pissing more people off by dragging them into it. He put his head down in defeat instead. He hadn't wanted an argument, just detention.  
  
Snape shook his head and with a huff, turned and stalked back to the front of the room. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for speaking out of line and three evenings detention."  
  
Harry forced himself to frown and slowly raised his eyes to Malfoy, letting a little victorious emotion make them sparkle.  
  
"He's going to serve it with Filch, right?" Malfoy said to Snape.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, you are not also trying to tell me how to run my class, are you?" he asked dangerously.  
  
"No, sir," the blonde boy responded, cowed.  
  
The class gradually returned to their brewing. "What the hell was that?" Hermione whispered to Harry.  
  
Harry frowned and shrugged. "Nott meant that to blow up in Justin's face. It pushed me too far."  
  
"Not that some of that didn't need to be said," Neville whispered. "We'll get the points back for you, Harry."  
  
"Thanks, Neville," Harry said. He wondered what the point total was, and suddenly felt selfish for not thinking of that.  
  
######  
  
During lulls in his afternoon classes, Harry became unable to think about anything other than that evening. He took bad notes in Herbology and Divination. During dinner, Ron commented on Harry's demeanor. "You haven't said anything all day."  
  
Hermione scoffed. "He said too much this morning and got detention with Professor Snape."  
  
Neville broke in. "Yeah, you missed Harry telling Snape off. Glad I didn't miss it--I plan to treasure the memory."  
  
Ron, who now seemed to over worry about everything, said, "What did you do that for?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "His unfairness got to me."  
  
"Life is unfair, Harry. Deal with it," Ron commented in a bit of a whine.  
  
Frowning, because he was supposed to cheer Ron up rather than bring him down, Harry said. "I enjoyed getting it off my chest. I'll gladly take the detention in return." Harry thought of asking how Ginny was, but held back.  
  
Ron shuddered. "The less time spent with Snape the better, I'd say."  
  
Harry didn't reply to that.  
  
######  
  
Harry knocked on the Potions master's door that evening with a complex trepidation. He had wanted this, but at the same time, Snape might still be pissed off by what Harry had said. The door swung open suddenly. "Come in, Potter," Snape intoned and strode back to his desk. Harry walked in sheepishly.  
  
"Uh sir, I-" Harry stopped when he saw Snape had his finger to his lips for silence. He could then hear that someone was in the smaller side supplies room.  
  
"You can assist Mr. Malfoy with the washing of cauldrons," Snape said.  
  
Harry gave him a look of confusion, but obeyed. Malfoy grinned darkly at Harry as he came aside the sink. "You wash. I'll dry," the boy said.  
  
"What did you get detention for?" Harry asked as he added more soap and neutralizer to the water.  
  
"Same as you," Malfoy answered innocently. "Mouthing off."  
  
"Sorry to have missed that," Harry mumbled.  
  
Harry, skilled at this, washed the large pile quickly, leaving Malfoy with a large number to dry before hanging them on the rods that protruded from the wall beside the sink. Harry was hanging the rags up when Snape stepped over, "You can re-shelve potions, Potter, while Mr. Malfoy finishes with that."  
  
Back in the office, Snape set a wooden box of full bottles on the floor before the ceiling-high shelves. Harry crouched down to look at a few of the labels. Snape crouched beside him and said, "These are new, put them in the back if there already are bottles on the shelf." Quietly, very close to Harry's ear, he added, "Malfoy needs to believe. That is important."  
  
Harry took a deep breath of frustration. Snape stood, brushing Harry's back and shoulder with his fingertips as he did so. Harry's whole body woke up and went tense and quivery at that. As Snape went back to his desk, Harry glanced coyly over at him, trying to read him. Surely Dumbledore must have come down on him hard, Harry thought. Part of him argued that it didn't care what the headmaster thought. He forced himself to pull out a potion bottle and find its spot on the shelf.  
  
There were four more crates to shelve. Harry's neck was aching by the time he finished. He piled the crates in the supply room, pausing just a moment to watch Malfoy very slowly hanging up cauldrons, and walked back to the desk. Detention really looked like it was going to go normally. He stretched his neck as he asked what else he should do. Snape gestured with his head that Harry should come around the desk. Harry stepped over as Snape stood up. In the next room came the sound of a cauldron bumping the marble sink as it was dried. Snape moved his finger in a circle to indicate that Harry should turn around.  
  
As Harry turned, Snape said, "There is not much more to be done and only forty-five minutes left in your detention." Snape's hands grasped Harry's shoulders and squeezed. Harry had to swallow a noise of surprised pleasure. He tried to relax as the massage continued, listening closely to the noise from the supply room for any sign that Malfoy was finishing up. "Perhaps you should just read ahead for the next lecture," Snape went on as he tipped Harry's head to one side and rubbed the muscles up the side of his neck and repeated on the other side.  
  
Snape removed his hands and Harry turned back around and sighed a silent, "Thanks." It took him a moment to recall what Snape had just said. With a much more comfortable stretch of his neck, he accepted Snape's copy of the textbook and took a seat at the nearest bench.  
  
Harry didn't sleep as well that night. He kept thinking about being touched. Every moment from that evening replayed in his mind in excruciating detail as he stared up at the inside of the bed drapes. Maybe he was obsessing, Harry thought. He should have asked how long Malfoy's detention was. It would really be unfortunate if it lined up perfectly with Harry's; the detention would be a total waste then, especially since he had pulled their point total down below the Slytherin one with his stunt.  
  
#######  
  
The next night, Malfoy was there in the dungeon again, making Harry's heart sink. Again they washed cauldrons and did a general cleanup. Malfoy was then assigned to do inventory of the hazardous ingredients cabinet while Harry shelved yet another batch of new potions. Harry carefully removed each existing row of bottles, pushed the new one to the back and put the old ones back in the same order. The task quickly fell into a mindless rhythm.  
  
Malfoy closed the cabinet and set the inventory parchment on the professor's desk. "Finished, Professor," Malfoy said in a best-boy voice.  
  
"You may go then, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said offhandedly as he made notes in a large ledger. Harry held his breath at that. When Malfoy didn't move, Snape looked up. "Do not behave irrationally, Mr. Malfoy. Your detention is over."  
  
Scowling, Malfoy left with noisy footsteps. Calmly, Harry finished shelving. He picked up the empty box and set it in the supplies room on top of the stack. When he returned to the office, Snape was standing in the doorway.  
  
"Would you like some tea, Harry?" he asked in an almost friendly voice.  
  
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
Snape glanced at him a little sharply and led the way into his chambers. Harry looked around at the hearth, the two dark, unremarkable landscape paintings, the four-poster bed. He took the armchair by the fire and sat down, his body alert again. Snape handed him a cup of tea. "Thank you, sir," Harry said as he cradled the warm ceramic in his hands.  
  
Snape sighed and pulled a straightbacked chair over by the fire. "Potter," he began. "I would prefer, if we are in a casual setting such as this, that you drop any titles or honorifics."  
  
Harry took that in. "Um, you want me to call you, Severus?" Harry asked in surprise.  
  
Snape settled back in his seat. "That is my name." He stared into his teacup for a while, rotating it in his long hands. "You asked for this detention. Why?"  
  
"You said we needed to talk about this Malfoy thing," Harry explained.  
  
"That is the reason?"  
  
Harry hesitated. He couldn't find the words to explain the twisting, shifting emotions of longing, emptiness, curiosity, fear, and excitement that caught him every time he let his mind wander. "Not really. I . . . wanted to spend time with you," Harry managed and felt a stab of unexpected fear, as though he had stepped out over empty air. He sipped his tea as a distraction.  
  
Snape's face softened. "That is amazing, Harry."  
  
"What is?"  
  
Snape rubbed his forehead and shook his head. "Are you sure about this?" he asked in a low voice.  
  
Harry swallowed to smother his stomach flutter. "Dumbledore didn't say anything to you?"  
  
Snape still stared into his cup. "He did. He said he was very disappointed, but protecting you is most important to him."  
  
"I don't get it."  
  
"I have arranged for you, rather accidentally I will admit, some protection from the Dark Lord. This is weighing heavily on Dumbledore since the attack on Hogsmeade."  
  
"Which was to get me," Harry added. When this brought Snape's head up sharply, Harry commented, "Not everyone keeps things from me." He shifted down in the chair and put one leg casually up on the armrest.  
  
"The Dark Lord discovered that I had taken you. I had to explain that it was for personal reasons. Very personal reasons."  
  
Harry's mouth fell open. "So much for privacy," he said, disgusted.  
  
"I do apologize for that break of your trust, but my life, and the Order, were at stake."  
  
Brow furrowed in concern, Harry sat forward. "That was the day you were so ornery."  
  
"Yes," Snape reluctantly admitted. "But the Dark Lord said I could keep you as long as I assured him I have you under complete control."  
  
Harry sat straighter. "He isn't trying to kill me now?" He fell back in the chair in relief and looked at the ceiling. He huffed out a long breath and said, "Thanks." Remembering his tea cooling in his hand, Harry took a gulp and watched Snape watching him.  
  
The far wall flared orange and Snape stood up and opened the door to the suite. Dumbledore stepped in, ducking to get his hat through the doorway. "I thought maybe I would find you here, Harry." Harry sat up and set his teacup aside. The headmaster turned to Snape. "I need to borrow Harry for a little while, Severus. I'll return him to the Gryffindor Tower when we are finished."  
  
Snape bowed his head. Dumbledore pulled out another one of the metal balls. He tapped it with his wand and held it out to Harry, who looked between the two of them curiously before standing and putting his hand on the warm, shiny surface. The headmaster counted down and with a jerk they landed in a brightly lit room with few decorations. The smell was very familiar, like the Potions classroom but less nose tickling.  
  
Dumbledore stepped to the doorway and through it. Harry recognized it now as they approached the greetingwitch. He thought of asking why they were here, but held back--he had thought of a reason that made his heart pound. When Dumbledore told the witch that he and the boy were going up to the Magical Maladies department, Harry was certain it was to see Ginny.  
  
"Come, Harry," Dumbledore urged when Harry froze in that spot by the desk.  
  
They walked down a long corridor and up a set of stairs. Many Healers in the corridor nodded at Dumbledore as he passed then gave Harry a surprised look as _he_ passed. Harry sped up to walk beside the headmaster.  
  
At an otherwise unremarkable, numbered door Dumbledore stopped and knocked softly before opening it. Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in straightbacked chairs beside Ginny's bed. They turned and stood to greet Dumbledore with tired voices. "Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging him quickly.  
  
"I am certain you could use a break," Dumbledore said to them kindly. "We will stay and visit with Ginny until you return."  
  
Harry, who had stepped up beside the bed, watched the bent backs of his best friend's parents as they departed, talking in monotonous hushed voices. He turned back to Ginny, who lay utterly still, her pale face almost matching the white sheets. The weight came down hard on Harry at that moment, like a hundred pound blanket that he couldn't get out from under.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "I want to teach you a spell." When Harry finally looked over at him with pain-filled eyes, he went on, "Do you know that when one person saves the life of another a bond is created between them?" Harry shook his head. "That link can be drawn upon; I want you to do that. Put your hands around Ginny's arm."  
  
Harry felt dizzy now, vacillating violently between grief and hope. He shifted the sheet aside to reveal Ginny's thin, freckled arm. He put both hands around her forearm. This has to work , he thought fearfully.  
  
Dumbledore's calm voice continued. "Remember back to when you saved Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets. Remember the moment you saved her life. As you do that, feel for the tie between you."  
  
Harry closed his eyes and remembered putting the sword through the Basilisk's head. He couldn't feel anything. He sorted through the panicked memories of that moment. Ginny was still dying at that point, he remembered--it was destroying Riddle that saved her. Harry remembered picking up the Basilisk tooth and stabbing the diary with it, making its ink drain from it like blood. Harry held his breath; he had felt something there, a heavy thing, tied to him the way the portkey hook grabbed hold. He repeated the memory and felt it again even stronger.  
  
"Very good, Harry," Dumbledore intoned with real pride. "Now I want you to open it and let it loose. It will feel like a wind blowing upward when you release it. Let it lift Ginny up but hold her so that it does not take her away."  
  
Harry's brow furrowed. He didn't understand any of that, but he couldn't not try. He felt for the stone-like thing and imagined it cracking open as though it were an eggshell or a mollusk. The resulting rush caught him completely by surprise. Except that he could feel her still arm lying on the sheet, he would have sworn she had left the bed. He steered her in the stream and tried to imagine her as weightless or with wings, able to catch the wind as it rushed up from beneath them both.  
  
Gradually the wind died off and Harry didn't move, just opened his eyes. Ginny's eyes were open as well, and looked around the ceiling in confusion. "Harry?" she asked. "What happened?"  
  
Harry swallowed and pulled his hands back. "I'm the wrong person to ask that."  
  
"Professor," she said weakly as Dumbledore stepped closer. She looked over the ceiling again. "What day is it?"  
  
"Don't worry about anything, Ginny." Dumbledore said kindly. "Just rest, my dear girl."  
  
Harry stood watching her. The weight hadn't lifted from him, but it had shifted to the side making him believe, for the moment, he could overcome everything and survive. The door to the room opened and still whispering, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley reentered. Harry's heart started to race, and when Ginny said, "Mum?" it skipped a few beats.  
  
Arthur and Molly Weasley stood stunned for a moment before rushing forward. "Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said, instantly in tears. "You're awake." She took her daughter's hand and turned to them. "Albus . . ." she began, then couldn't speak. Dumbledore stepped back slightly and gestured at Harry.  
  
"Wha . . .?" Harry started. Mrs. Weasley set Ginny's hand down, stepped over to him and hugged him again, much harder this time. Harry didn't imagine she was that strong. "I had help," he insisted. She backed off and just gripped his upper arms. With a startlingly affectionate gaze, she looked him over and sighed.  
  
Dumbledore stepped over to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, perhaps you should fetch the Healer."  
  
With an exhausted and relieved smile at his daughter, he did as suggested.  
  
In the corridor, Arthur walked down to where he knew the Healer's break room was. The door was open and soft conversation flowed out of it. He stepped into the doorway, attracting the attention of the two witches and one wizard. At one point or another over the last week and a half, he had spoken with each of them. "We need a Healer," he said shakily. He couldn't put more words together so he pointed down the hallway instead.  
  
In grim silence they followed. Inside the room Mrs. Weasley sat beside the bed holding her daughter's hand again. The visitors stood at the end of the bed. One of them really had hoped to get away before more people appeared.  
  
"She's awake," one of the witches said in surprise. The Healers all turned to Dumbledore as though connected by strings.  
  
"I walked Harry Potter through a spell to revive her," he said. The Healers then all turned to Harry in much more surprise. He tried to keep a level expression, even when one of the Healers muttered, "_The_ Harry Potter?"  
  
"What spell?" the wizard asked as they each inspected Ginny. It was clear from her now flushed cheeks and curious questions that she was doing much better.  
  
Dumbledore hesitated. "A Lifting Angel spell," he replied factually. Harry turned to him. He had never heard of that, but that didn't mean much. The Healers apparently had; they stared at Harry with various expressions: stunned, startled, and aghast. He wished they would go back to looking over Ginny; their attention made him feel strange.  
  
"I need to take Harry back to school," Dumbledore said as he stepped toward the center of the room.  
  
Mr. Weasley came over and wrapped Harry in a bear hug as he stood beside the headmaster. "Thank you, Harry," he said with a sob.  
  
"Uh, anytime, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, eager to escape.  
  
"Arthur, I think Ginny would like to talk to you about what happened," Dumbledore said.  
  
Mr. Weasley released Harry suddenly. "Oh, right," he said and patted Harry on the top of the head before turning away. When Dumbledore held out the metal sphere, Harry grabbed hold of it immediately. They reappeared in the corridor leading to the Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore put the portkey in his pocket and reached down and grasped Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," he said sincerely.  
  
"I would have done it sooner, if I'd known."  
  
"I wasn't certain it was needed until I received a message this evening from Arthur. Also, I was hesitant to remove you from the protection of the school. I don't like you to be out, Harry. I have reinforced the spells here to protect you."  
  
Surprised, Harry said, "That isn't fair to everyone else, is it?"  
  
"These are trying times, Harry. And you are very important to us all surviving them." He gave Harry a small push. "Go on up to your room and rest, I suspect you will need it."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Harry walked slowly down the long corridor and reached the portrait hole just as it opened. "Mr. Potter," McGonagall snapped at him. "You are late."  
  
Harry glanced behind him at the empty hallway. "I was with the headmaster, ma'am," Harry insisted.  
  
"Hm, I shall verify that tomorrow," she threatened and held open the portrait for him.  
  
Harry stepped inside and over to his friends. "Harry, you are late," Hermione said.  
  
"You sound like . . . " he turned and looked at McGonagall watching him carefully. " . . . a teacher," he finished. "Dumbledore took me to St. Mungo's," Harry explained quietly.  
  
Ron froze upon hearing this, his quill dripping dark blotches onto his essay. He glanced up fearfully. "What did you go there for?" he asked, seeming afraid of the answer.  
  
"To see Ginny." Harry said and then held up his hand to stop Hermione's outburst, presumably about her and Ron not getting to go. "Dumbledore wanted to try a spell on her."  
  
"What spell?" Hermione asked.  
  
"A Lifting Angel spell," Harry replied and then grinned. "She's all right, Ron. She was talking to your parents."  
  
Ron gasped. Hermione pulled her mouth closed. "You did a what?" She was interrupted by Ron launching himself across her and onto Harry. They both fell backward over the arm of a chair.  
  
"Ron!" Harry said in surprise. His friend clung to him, breathing heavily. Harry gave in and patted his friend's arms.  
  
"Is everything all right?" McGonagall asked as she stepped over to them.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said from deep in the armchair. "It is, even though it doesn't look it. He's happy that Ginny is going to be all right, is all."  
  
McGonagall seemed very relieved as well. "Well, that is good news, Harry. I hadn't heard that she was doing better."  
  
Hermione piped up. "That is because Harry just got back from doing a spell on her." McGonagall looked at Harry for confirmation. He took a deep breath under the weight of his friend. "A Lifting Angel spell," Hermione added with emphasis.  
  
McGonagall looked at her in surprise then down at Harry.  
  
"Ron, really, you are as bad as your dad," Harry complained and tried to raise his friend off of himself.  
  
Ron relented. He rubbed his eyes hard as he straightened up. "She wasn't doing well, is all. My mum and dad, they couldn't face it but it was obvious. . . "  
  
"Ron, honestly. She's fine now."  
  
"You really performed a Lifting Angel, Harry?" McGonagall asked quietly.  
  
Harry, distracted by Ron, answered offhanded, "Yes. Headmaster talked me through it."  
  
She straightened and with bright eyes said, "Seventy-five points for you Harry, for exemplary spell performance."  
  
Harry gave her a grin. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
"Don't stay up too late celebrating," she said as she departed.  
  
That night, Harry lay in bed remembering the strange rush of non-wind from the spell. If he could only learn everything in time, he thought, then no one else would have to die. Aching inside, he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**notes** I've been overwhelmed the last month but I'm still working on this.


End file.
